


Folklore

by Biblicalplague



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Album: folklore (Taylor Swift), America-Centric (Hetalia), F/M, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Minor Belgium/Spain (Hetalia), Minor England/France (Hetalia), Minor Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Minor Netherlands/Belgium, Past Female America/Russia, Past Japan/Netherlands, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, slowburn but established relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26188051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biblicalplague/pseuds/Biblicalplague
Summary: After learning about the Red Thread of Fate from Italy of all people, Amelia asks Kiku if he thinks they're tied together by destiny. When he admits to having some doubts about the legend, she sets out to prove him wrong by following the thread that led her to him, recounting her history as a female nation in a world filled with men as she goes.They create their own folklore.(Companion piece to Finally Right all these years later, heavily inspired by Taylor Swift's Folklore)
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), Female America/Japan (Hetalia), Female America/Russia (Hetalia), Female Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. Invisible String

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy historical references, AmeriPan, and have ever wondered what it would be like if the world's last superpower was a female nation and how her life as a woman has impacted her, this fic is for you! 
> 
> Oh, and also if you like Taylor Swift. Honestly, where would I even be without her?

* * *

**_Time, curious time_ **

**_Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs_ **

**_Were there clues I didn't see?_ **

* * *

Amelia Jones leaned against the wooden door frame of the ornate conference room, a small smile playing at her lips as she watched sunlight bounce off of Kiku Honda’s jet-black hair. The large, floor-length windows illuminated his entire person, outlining him in gold against the retreating sun. He seemed completely unaware of her existence, focused on his conversation with the stern-looking woman gathering her files together. 

Their business was coming to an end for the day. Amelia could tell by the way his shoulders relaxed and his tone shifted, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. They were both her allies, but she’d be in trouble if she got caught snooping around Germany’s house again. Even so, she could tell Kiku was cracking a small joke by the way his lips turned upward into an almost imperceptible smile. Her heart felt a little bit lighter every time she saw that particular tell. 

“Miss America!” a voice called from down the hall, jolting her out of her admiration. Amelia turned and came face to face with Italy, the man having practically tripped over himself to catch up with her. “Wow! I can’t believe you’re here too! Waiting for Japan?” 

“Hey, Italy! You hit the nail on the head! I figured since we’re both in town, we could hang out after work. And judging by those flowers...You must have known I’d be here!” She winked at him, holding out her arms for the purple blossoms as if she truly expected to be handed them. Italy laughed and Amelia continued to smile as her arms dropped to her side. “I’m guessing those are for Germany and not for me after all, hm~?” 

He nodded enthusiastically, an unruly curl of auburn hair bobbing along. Amelia thought about reaching out and giving it a short tug, but the last time she did that, Germany had given her such a frightful look that even she thought better of it. “I haven’t seen her all month since she’s been so busy. You should always bring a cute girl flowers, but these are special! Heliotropes are sort of significant for us.” 

Amelia peered into the bouquet as if she expected some sort of surprise to pop out of it. They seemed like such an unremarkable plant, but they smelled nice enough. “I guess you guys would have a special flower, huh? You’ve been together for a long time now.” 

“I’ve loved her since the 900s,” Italy admitted with a quiet seriousness that made the American feel a little uncomfortable. It didn’t suit him and his usual ditzy cheerfulness. It reminded her too much of a time nearly a century behind them now, even if he was sporting a wistful smile. “She still doesn’t remember everything, but these flowers help bring back her memories of that time.”

Amelia blinked slowly and stood up straight, glancing at the bouquet with a new sort of reverence. “Right. I forgot, you guys fell in love and then were separated for a long time. It’s a crazy love story, but I’m glad you can be together now.” 

The way Italy looked at Germany was exactly the same way she looked at Kiku. The growing grin on his face said it all as he peeked in on the pair. He checked his watch, noting that there were technically still three minutes left in the meeting. Germany would use up every single one of them, even if it was just pleasantries at this point. That was just who she was. 

The blonde couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. They had so much shared history together. It was impossible to separate the two. They were as married as nations could be. People took their relationship seriously and respected it, if not as countries then certainly on a personal level. Everyone seemed to acknowledge they were made for one another, but more important than what everyone else thought was what they thought. Germany loved Italy and Italy loved Germany. No matter what happened, they would always come back together. 

“Japan says we’re tied by fate,” Italy hummed, holding up his pinky finger. 

Amelia stared at him, far more confused by this action than the heliotropes. “Um…” She raised her hand and wrapped her own pinky around his, shaking on it. “What are we promising?” 

Italy stared back at her, then began to burst into laughter. “Miss America, you don’t know?” 

“Know _what_?” Amelia asked, annoyed that someone like Italy was in the loop when she wasn’t. 

Italy tried to cover up his laughter that had died down to a chuckle, smile never leaving his handsome face. “There’s an invisible string that connects two people who are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances,” he explained, holding his pinky out. He turned, squinting, and aimed it directly over Germany’s form just as she seemed to notice them waiting. “This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. So you see? Germany and I are connected! We’re soulmates!” 

“Oh, so it’s folklore…” Amelia mused, though she didn’t have a chance to ask any further questions as their respective partners finally decided they were ready to head out. 

“Italy, what are you doing here? I thought I was going to meet you tomorrow in Venice!” Germany was clearly surprised, looking at her lover as if he had confused their joint schedule. What was the point of updating the Google Calendar if he wasn’t going to reference it? 

Italy wasted no time, standing on his toes to kiss both of Germany’s cheeks before presenting her with the bouquet. “I know, but I took off from work early--!” 

“You _what?”_

“Well, it’s a Friday, so I thought if I just took off early I could meet you tonight--and tonight is really very special, you know!--and then we could travel back to Venice tomorrow together! It’ll be much more fun if you have company, right? I love taking the trains between our places~! I get to admire so much of Germany’s beautiful lands that way! No wonder your body is so--!” 

“ _Enough_.” Germany’s face was thoroughly pink as she slapped a hand over Italy’s mouth. Once she could look America and Japan in the eyes, she heaved a large sigh. “My apologies. I know we had plans to get dinner together, but he actually has a point. Today is a special day for us.” 

It really must have been something important if Germany was cancelling plans, especially so last minute. Idly, Amelia wondered what it could be, but with a relationship as long as theirs, she imagined their year was full of anniversaries and special moments. Italy was a romantic guy. He wouldn’t let any precious memory go uncelebrated, especially when Germany was only now beginning to remember her time as the Holy Roman Empire. America should have been happy for them, but the only thing she could be truly happy about was it freed up her evening with Japan. 

“That’s alright. Miss America and I will find a way to entertain ourselves.” 

“I’m sure you will~!” Italy teased knowingly, though he flinched when Kiku gave him a look. “Eh, no, wait, I mean because you two are such good friends! Besides, aren’t things always more fun with a pretty girl around?! I know America is America, but she’s still a girl and really very gorgeous and--!” 

“It’s fine, dude,” Amelia waved him off with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, wanting to shut him up before he said something that pissed off both blondes. If Italy blew his evening plans with Germany now, that might mean she’d want to go out drinking with both her and Kiku--or maybe even just her. As much as America appreciated female-nation solidarity, she wasn’t in the mood to listen to someone complain about how their boyfriend accidentally put his foot in his mouth when he was so clearly head over heels for her. “Everyone knows Japan and I are total rockstars together! We’re gonna take Berlin by storm! Paint the town! Find some weird cowboy-themed bar and square dance the night away!”

“I don’t have _that_ many of those,” Germany said quickly, embarrassed by her own people’s fascination with Westerns and cowboys. America never let her forget it once she found out. 

“You have more in your capital than I do in mine. That’s too many.” 

When farewells and promises to catch up some other time had been made, they parted ways, Italy’s voice echoing throughout the hall as he began to explain to Germany all the romantic plans he had made in a city considered anything but. Amelia didn’t need to be present for the rest of their conversation to know Germany was going to be swept off her feet by the Italian charmer. 

“Doner kebab?” Amelia asked once they had left the Reichstag building far enough behind them that they blended into the crowd, a pair of tourists like any other. 

“Doner kebab,” Kiku agreed with a small smile, his hand finally slipping into hers. 

* * *

**_T_** **_ime, mystical time_ **

**_Cutting me open, then healing me fine_**

* * *

It didn’t take them long to locate a Turkish fast food stall near the edge of the River Spree. Italy and Germany were no doubt enjoying a romantic meal at some upscale restaurant or other, but Amelia would bargain that this was a pretty great date spot too, even if it did include more birds than most people usually liked. 

“Stop feeding the pigeons,” Kiku scolded her lightly as he took a seat beside her on a set of steps that looked out towards the water. 

Amelia made a face. Caught. She thought nobody was watching when she tossed that piece of pita towards the flock of opportunistic scavengers. 

“I’ve seen you shout at tourists outside Union Station for that sort of thing,” he continued, poking her cheek. She whined, but he didn’t acknowledge her complaints. “If you’re going to show up for pleasure instead of business, you should be especially respectful.” 

Amelia smirked and wagged her eyebrows at him. “Oh, I definitely showed up for pleasure.” 

She shrieked as he swatted her gently in the face with his kebab, tzatziki sauce landing on her cheek. “Hey! No money shots in public!” 

He choked on his bite of pita, coughing and sputtering around laughter. The pigeons were thankful for the extra offering and Kiku was too distracted to scold anyone. Amelia passed him a bottle of water before wiping the condiment off her face, grinning from ear to ear. She was still laughing as she leaned over to kiss the corner of his mouth, waiting patiently for him to swallow and catch his breath before swooping in for a real kiss. 

She could feel him smile against her lips, a chuckle low in his own throat. Something about Europe always made Kiku a little bit more free with his displays of public affection. Taking him to Italy had even more bizarre effects, but Amelia wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She just wanted to kiss him out in the open when nobody else was around. There was no reputation to be lost or gained when they were just a pair of strangers passing through. 

He wouldn’t allow it to go farther than that though, for both decency’s sake and her own. It was funny how shy he could still be, unable to look her in the eyes after they parted, a pretty blush starting to color his pale cheeks. Kiku might not be able to look at her, but all Amelia could do was stare. She knew the more she did, the redder his face would get and maybe she was just a little bit sadistic. Amelia hoped he never lost his innocent shyness when they were out in public like this. 

Their bedroom was a different story, but she knew Kiku would want to take a stroll around the city together before retiring to their hotel room. 

“How was the meeting?” she asked as she polished off her kebab, always the first to finish their food out of the pair. “It seemed like you guys finished talking about business fairly early.” 

“Listening in again?” he asked, amused as he took another bite of his wrap. 

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I learned my lesson, okay? I just know how your whole body relaxes once you stop being Japan and you start acting like Kiku.” 

It was impossible for them to stop being both. They knew that. Relationships between nations were complicated and messy. Showing their true humanity to one another could backfire so spectacularly, but she knew Germany was Japan’s friend. He might not know her human name, but he didn’t have to. They still cared for one another. 

“She’s a bit perplexed about her relationship with Italy,” he admitted, staring out at the water. “Their personal involvement is public knowledge, but Italy wants to take things further these days. Not as countries, but as people.” 

“And what’s so wrong with that?” She felt like a hypocrite as soon as the words left her mouth. “Those two have been in love for over a thousand years, Kiku. Didn’t you say to Italy that they’re tied by an invisible string?” 

He finished his meal and grabbed her trash, taking both greasy wrappers and tossing them. Without a word, he pulled hand sanitizer out of his pocket and poured some onto his palm, then gestured for Amelia to hold out her own. She watched him with bated breath, knowing he was calculating his words during the interim distraction. 

“Does everyone need to know about it?” He slipped the little bottle back into his pocket and reached for her hand. “Germany is a female nation and a major world power. Aren’t you the one always saying that you have to work twice as hard just to get people to take you seriously? That romantic relationships lead to nothing but trouble and a lack of respect for female nations? Isn’t that the reason why we’re just friends?” 

He wasn’t angry about it, mostly because he knew it wasn’t true. Not the last part, at least.

“We’re not just friends,” she reminded him, though her tone was bitter. “It’s different for me. I’m the only female superpower to ever exist. You know what would happen if people found out about us.” 

Kiku knew her troubled mind well. He wondered if Amelia ever worried he would try to use her in the same way, as if she could be fooled so easily again. He wanted to take her into his arms and reassure her that this was different, that all this pretending was for her safety and because he respected her. She didn’t have any right to look so hurt. 

“Well, you’re not a superpower right now,” he remarked, holding up a hand as soon as her face started to shift into one of outrage. “Amelia.” 

Her real name made her swallow her tongue. She started to laugh, shaking her head as she took his hand. “Kiku.” 

That’s right. They weren’t countries right now. They could pretend to be human as long as it was just the two of them together.

* * *

**_One single thread of gold_ **

**_Tied me to you_**

* * *

“Do you think we’re tied together?” Amelia asked as she laid with him, naked beneath the sheets of the hotel bed. She raised her right arm and held up her pinky finger, staring up at it as if she could see the red thread that tied her to her soulmate. 

“You’re still thinking about that old legend?” he asked, kissing her temple. Her golden curls smelled like sunshine in darkness. “I had no idea you were so interested in folklore. Have you heard the one about Momotaro? I think you would like it. I can tell it to you now to help you fall asleep if you like.” 

She lowered her arm, a heavy feeling beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. “Kiku Honda, is there a reason why you’re dodging the question?” 

Amelia could feel her head rise and fall as his chest did, a sigh heaving from his slender body. She turned onto her side, resting a hand on his chest as she peered up at him with blue eyes that were begging him not to break her heart. 

His silence spoke volumes. She knew better than to expect him to say ‘no’ outright. “It’s a bit difficult to say, don’t you think? We can’t compare ourselves to Italy and Germany.” 

“Nobody is comparing us to those two. I was asking you if you thought we were destined to be together,” she reminded him, her tone clipped in a way that was more like England’s than she would ever care to admit. Her eyes focused on the bland decor of the hotel room, staring straight through an inoffensive floor lamp to avoid looking Kiku in the eyes and giving away how annoyed she was growing. “I didn’t realize it was such a difficult question. You could just score easy points and say ‘yes’, you know.” 

“You would have me lie to you?” 

She sat up at that. “You think it would be a lie to say we’re soulmates?”

“Amelia, it’s just a story,” he reminded her, not budging from his spot, though he looked troubled. “You’re still so incredibly young.”  
  
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” she snapped, throwing the sheets back and getting up, always unable to sit still when she was troubled. 

“I just meant that you still have so much history ahead of you. I may not be the man you want six decades from now,” he explained, pulling the sheet back over himself, far more modest than her even now. “A woman such as yourself is bound to get tangled up with all sorts of people.” 

“Ah, well thank you for calling me a skank in the nicest way possible.” She placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes so far back, he could see the whites of her eyes. The blues suddenly narrowed when she realized just how specific he was being with his choice of years. “...This is about Russia, isn’t it?” 

“Ami…” 

Her arms folded across her chest and she gave an incredulous laugh. “Unbelievable. Six decades. That was deliberate. How long are you going to throw that in my face?” 

“I wasn’t throwing it in your face!” he insisted, laying back on the bed. How did things go so wrong? 

“Yes, you were. You worry I might still have feelings for him. You think that one day, he’s going to come back, and I’m just going to open my legs and let him slide between them. Because I’m _‘bound to get tangled up with all sorts of people’_. Classy.”

“Your boss was the one who said he wanted to ‘reset relations’ with Russia.” He was making it worse and he knew it. 

“And so you think that means something?! That was my boss’s idea--not mine! I can be a professional and separate my work and my personal life! That was ten years ago, Kiku! Nothing even happened! Things only got _worse_ because he can’t let shit go! Now you’re going to cling to it too?” 

Amelia had a point, but Kiku refused to concede. It was about more than just the ‘relationship reset’. She just didn’t get it. “You speak of ten years as if it’s more than a blink of an eye for us.” 

She said nothing, furious in her silence. Annoyed that he could freely look upon her naked body, she ripped the sheet clean off the bed with the same amount of effort one used to grab a tissue, her strength abnormal for a woman her size. 

Kiku immediately curled in on himself, using his hands to cover his genitals. “Ami!” 

“I am not responsible for your insecurity.”

She left him bare-ass naked on the bed, wrapped herself in the sheet like a makeshift toga, and headed for the bathroom to clean up. 

He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, just listening to the water turn on. Amelia was taking things all wrong, but he shouldn’t have brought her age into it and he definitely shouldn’t have brought up her relationship with Russia. It was a dumb mistake. He knew the sort of reaction that would elicit. 

By the time he went after her, the bathroom mirror had fogged over. He took his finger and began to doodle over the condensation, tracing a triangle and then a line straight down the center to form an umbrella. In Japanese, he added his name on the left and hers on the right, then topped everything off with a tiny heart. It was childish, but he knew it would bring a smile to her face when she noticed it later. 

The water was uncomfortably hot to the point it turned her skin pink and burned her face. She could feel the tension already starting to leave her muscles, stress fading away. This was a stupid arguement. They both knew it. 

When she pushed the glass door to the shower open, Kiku took the olive branch and joined her. 

“I love you,” she reminded him as he stepped inside, water cascading down her face and turning her golden threads of hair a chestnut brown. “If I could be with you publicly, I would. I just can’t have anyone question my position ever again. I can’t. I can’t go through it again.”

“I know,” he whispered back reassuringly, kissing her cheek as his arms wrapped around her waist. “It’s not 1959 and I’m not him. This is our secret, Ami.” 

She took a deep breath and leaned into him. “You love me too, right?” 

It was still difficult for him to say. It just wasn’t in his nature to talk about his feelings. “Yes. I love you.” He was trying. Words of affection dribbled out of Amelia’s mouth like a rushing river, but Kiku rarely voiced how he felt about her. It came out in other ways, quiet and gentle reminders that appeared as if left behind by a guardian angel, but those hushed tokens of his love were just as constant and ever-present. 

“Why don’t you think we’re destined to be together?” She could feel his body preparing to sigh again and turned her head to look at him. “Really. What’s the reason?”

He reached for the shampoo, pouring some into his hand. More distractions. “It’s not so much that. The red string of fate connects lovers across time and space, but our relationship is relatively fresh for our kind. I still learn new things about you every day, Ami. I know you very well, yes, but there are still these parts of yourself that you won’t let anyone see. Not even me. I know why you do it. I understand why you hide parts of yourself away.”

“I do not _hide_ parts of myself!” she insisted with a pout. “I am _very_ straightforward and have one of the most well-documented histories in the world!” 

“A history that often omits your experience,” Kiku countered. “Yes. The United States of America has no shortage of scholarly texts and anthologies documenting its every move. But you are largely excluded from that narrative.” 

“Because I’m a woman.” 

He did not disagree. “Because you’re a woman.” 

“So...you want to know more about me?” This was an odd turn of events. She felt like she never missed an opportunity to talk about herself, but Kiku wasn’t satisfied with what he knew. “Like my colonial days?” 

“More than just that. Even the time we spent together is all tangled up and I often find myself wondering what you were thinking in that moment. I still don’t know what was going through your head when you found me dying. Everyone wrote it off as you just wanting to play a hero, but I remember the look on your face when you found me in the aftermath.” 

She had never said a word about how she really felt. The America she presented to the world, shining bright and full of ceaseless optimism, was rooted in the belief that she had to be perfect in a world that constantly shifted the goalposts for women. Like a chameleon, she had morphed according to the expectations of every era in order to survive. 

He could still recall the day he realized she dumbed herself down at world meetings. He remembers how startled he was the first time he heard her genuine laugh and how different it was from the ‘polite, ladylike’ little giggle she reserved for men she detested. He had seen her strong-arm people one moment and only to offer them home-made sweets the next, flip-flopping and ping-ponging between traditionally masculine and feminine roles as best she could because her job demanded she lead but the world told her she could not. 

Trying to disregard her gender solved nothing. It only earned her scorn from her male bosses and the male nations alike. She continued to adapt and continued to perfect the way she presented herself. Denying herself a real relationship with the man she loved fit into her political equation. It was one less thing people could criticize her for. 

Amelia was uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the shower. It was only when they turned the water off did she address him again. “My thoughts are the only things that feel like they’re completely mine,” she admitted, stepping out of the tub and reaching for a towel. “More than that, they never mattered. Nobody ever cared what I thought.” 

“I care.” 

She finally noticed the ai-ai gasa he had drawn onto the mirror. It struck her with such deep love and affection, especially as he wrapped a fluffy and warm towel around her naked form, she worried she might burst into tears. It wasn’t fair. There was so much she wanted to give him, so much of herself she wanted to share but had written off because she couldn’t. If she couldn’t, then it was easier to consider those parts of herself unimportant and not worth giving in the first place. 

“I know,” she acknowledged, leaning against him as she eyed the scar she left on his body all those years ago. As much as he chided her for hiding parts of herself, he was just as guilty. “These past few years have been amazing, Kiku. I really think you’re the person I’m meant to be with. You’re more than just a boyfriend. You’re my best friend. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” 

“Quoting Jane Austen? You really are in a mood,” he teased, tossing another crisp, white towel over her head. She laughed as he helped dry her hair, smiling up at him from beneath the hem with rosy cheeks. “Hm. Like this, you almost look like a bride from my place.” 

“Wishful thinking,” she said with a cheeky wink, continuing to smile up at him. 

He didn’t deny it. Kiku was appraising her with a curious and fond thoughtfulness that most women would die to receive from the men they loved. It was like he was undressing her past the towel and trying to strip her down to her soul. Her breath caught in her throat, face heating up from more than just the humid bathroom. 

“What if I shared my life and you shared yours?” Amelia asked suddenly, pulling the towel from her head and letting it pool at her feet. 

His head cocked to the side. “Equivalent exchange?”

“Quoting Fullmetal Alchemist? You really are in a mood,” she shot back at him, earning a playful shove that didn’t even make her budge. “I’m serious though! What if we... _traced_ the string that ties us together?” 

“Ami, it’s invisible.” 

“I _know_ that! I just meant, like…” It wasn’t like her at all to become so bashful, but she was having trouble finding the words. “What if I shared my story and you shared yours?” She raised her pinky finger again. “I know you and I are connected. The thread can stretch or tangle, but it will never break! I can prove that you and I are destined to be together! Don’t you think so?!” 

He was a little startled, but he shouldn’t have been so surprised. A knowing smile crossed his face. “You do realize that a foolproof way to get you to do anything is to say you won’t be able to do something, right?” 

“So what?” Amelia whined. "Do you think we’re tied together or not?” 

“I think I can be convinced,” he said with a small nod, gently guiding her back towards their suite. 

In true American fashion, her enthusiasm was boundless and she wanted to get started right away. Towel still wrapped around her body, she grabbed a red pen and unlined pad of paper from the hotel desk, ready to write their entire story then and there. 

“When does our story begin then? March 8th, 1854?” He recalled that was the first time he ever heard “The Star-Spangled Banner”, played by no less than three bands as she departed her black-hulled ship. 

Amelia began to laugh, a sound like tinkling bells. “Not even! If we’re tied by fate, our thread begins earlier than that! Much earlier!” 

“Like when?” 

“Something like…” She began to scribble a year down onto the notepad, red pen making an imprint on the paper as if it were his heart. Amelia slid it towards him. "Here."

_ **1607** _

* * *

**_And isn't it just so pretty to think_ **

**_All along there was some_ **

**_Invisible string_ **

**_Tying you to me?_**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically a reboot of my fic America Grows. It still exists, but I'm not happy with it and what a difference a year and an album full of inspiration can make. I've been wanting to write down this idea for years, but I feel like I'm finally able to in a coherent way that will do it justice. I'm still fond of certain parts of my old fic, but it lacks coherency and doesn't quite pull off what I wanted it to do. 
> 
> I hope that for anyone who read my first attempt will give this second (really third) try a shot, and if you do and you prefer this style, please let me know! This continues to be a passion project of mine. I actually wrote most of the last chapter of America Grows, but at that point I was so unhappy with how it was turning out, I lost the will to power through. I'm hoping that this will turn into something I can be truly proud of. I plan on taking it slow since it requires a lot of research and I want each chapter to be roughly 5,000 words, so expect updates monthly and not weekly.


	2. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia asks Arthur about her inception and how he came to find her. Kiku hears about a female nation in the New World. 
> 
> She was a witch they could not burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!WARNING!!
> 
> This chapter contains a lot of things that might upset people: some mild (and internalized) homophobia, pseudo-incest (NOT USUK, shockingly, but NedBel--it isn't portrayed in a romantic light, but the Netherlands is jealous his 'sister' is with another man), misogyny, and child abuse from townsfolk.

* * *

**_Please picture me in the trees_ **

**_I hit my peak at seven_ **

**_Feet in the swing over the creek_ **

**_I was too scared to jump in_ **

* * *

There was something about Paris that made Amelia anxious. It was more than just the unfamiliar French accents, so different from the cajun variety she had developed a tongue for. She never felt refined enough to stroll through France’s capital city; whenever she found herself in need of a visit, she stuck to business. Funny how that worked. Berlin was a playground she felt comfortable exploring, but Paris made her sweat. 

Amelia wished she could blame England for her reaction. If nothing else, the blonde could blame him for being there, she thought to herself as she stopped to linger outside Fauchon. After a moment’s hesitation, she caved and entered the luxury establishment, muddling through her accented French as best she could. She left the shop with a gift box of assorted teas in flavors that sounded too sweet to be decent and a bottle of red wine she couldn’t even pronounce much less tell if it had been overpriced. 

She decided it didn’t matter as the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré grasped her attention. The home to the British embassy reminded her both of her manners and the real reason she had come. But could the pair of them be any more obvious in their affections for one another? It was a little embarrassing. 

The pied-à-terre suited the man who owned it. Even though she had been there multiple times throughout the decades, Amelia still couldn’t help but glance around and admire the architecture while she waited for France to answer the door. It was a 19th-century marvel, hard to believe it survived all these years. 

The sound of laughter reached her before France did. Old locks clicked, and soon she was face to face with eyes that looked just like hers. “Oh, Amérique!” He seemed surprised, but not upset. On a personal level, she knew he loved her, even if he often found her unbearable at work. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Francis,” she replied, watching how his entire being relaxed when she used his human name. Amelia smiled as she held up the gift bags. “Heard you were having a party and I just had to crash!” 

He laughed and ushered her inside, taking her light jacket from her shoulders and hanging it up properly. Amelia held her gifts in her hands and glanced around the apartment, noticing the empty teacup resting on a delicately crafted saucer. That one was Arthur’s favorite. She had been right. 

“It’s not a party, chérie. Poor Angleterre was having another depressive episode with his weather and I graciously opened my home for the miserable wretch!” 

“Of course you did,” she giggled, just as a bang came from one of the three bedrooms. It was no surprise England hobbled out of the master. As much as they tried to hide their relationship from her and Matthew, it was hardly a secret amongst the four of them that they were together. Why Arthur insisted on pretending he was going to sleep anywhere other than with Francis when they came to visit was beyond her. 

“Who are you badmouthing me to now, you git?” Arthur groused as he came around the corner, only half of his shirt in his trousers. “After all I do for you…!” 

“It’s our Amélie,” Francis informed him, a deliberate signal to behave himself in front of their child--and she was their child in that moment, not a superpower. 

He couldn’t say it, but she knew that was how they both still thought to this day. The only time they really let their guards down was when her or Matthew were present, a rare chance for them to grasp their humanity and play house. 

Even Arthur seemed to notice the shift. A visit from America was almost a guaranteed headache, but one from Amelia and on such short notice? So spontaneously? 

“What’s happened, darling?” he asked, shifting into the role of a mother hen so quickly it was a shock he didn’t give himself whiplash. 

Amelia was as defensive as a teenager asking to spend the day with her fathers. “Nothing happened!” she insisted, practically whipping the gift-bag full of teas at him. “Jeez, can’t I just come visit you every now and again? You’re always complaining I never just hang out with you anymore!” 

“Well, a certain miss seems too important for the likes of us these days,” England sneered, just as quick to put up his guard even as he caught the bag. “How’s your pivot towards Asia going? Does China treat you nicely?” 

“UGH!” Her noise of disgust was coupled with a gesture of ardent frustration made her look even younger than she normally appeared. 

“Now, now,” Francis was quick to intervene, frustrated that they had devolved to bickering so early into the visit. “Amélie came here to see us! Look, she’s even brought me a bottle of wine! Thank you, ma petite! We’ll have it with dinner. Sit, sit. I made macarons just the other day. You like those, oui? Arthur, another cup of tea?” 

Former colony and former empire alike sat across from one another in velvet-upholstered Louis XVI–style chairs, separated only by the vintage Italian dining table between them. Amelia glanced about the former salon, wondering how the hell anyone lived with so many mirrors plastered everywhere. Her own discomfort was reflected back at her in a way that forced her to examine the exquisite Tabriz rug beneath their feet instead. 

Arthur studied her and noted how young she looked like that. Francis poured him another cup of tea and set a bowl of Earl Grey-flavored macarons in front of them. He gave them some space, rolling up his sleeves and making his way behind the marbled kitchen counter to start on dinner. 

Never one to turn down snacks, Amelia plucked a cookie from the dish and frowned. “I like macarons, but this is a boring flavor. How come you never make any of the fun kinds you find at my place? Like Fruity Pebbles?” 

“Don’t be so rude when someone offers you something they made for you!” Arthur was quick to scold, but Amelia ignored him and devoured the delicate cookie in a single bite. 

She made a face. “He made them for _you_ because _you_ like the taste of liquid mothballs.” 

He was shaking with a bit of unrestrained rage, but she ignored him and simply ate another macaron she professed to dislike, waiting for him to calm down. “Well? Why did you really come?” Arthur finally asked, growing impatient. Amelia’s fidgeting was making him nervous. Was his girl in trouble? Had she had a particularly bad row with Matthew? 

When her hand moved towards the bowl for another cookie, he pulled it away. If she wasn’t going to enjoy them, then she shouldn’t be eating them when Arthur would happily indulge later.

Amelia placed her cheek in her hand instead. “I was sorta hoping you could, um…” She scratched her cheek and tried to look anywhere other than his face, but those damnable mirrors forced her hand. Finding her courage, she looked her former guardian straight in the eyes and said, “I want you to tell me everything you remember about me as a child!” 

Arthur’s cup of tea stopped halfway to his lips. Even Francis looked up from the cutting board, staring at the former colony in surprise. 

They had all silently agreed long ago not to speak of the time before she became independent. Now it made some sense why she was in such an odd state. 

“I know you remember more than I do. I also know that you have been around a lot longer than me. You’ve seen nations come and go. You know more about the nature of our existence than anyone,” she admitted, hands fisting in her skirt. “So could you please tell me about the time you found me?” 

It was quiet in the elegant Paris apartment. Francis waited for Arthur’s lead, silently willing him with his mind to take this seriously. 

“Well...I believe it all started in 1607, didn’t it?” 

* * *

**_Sweet tea in the summer_ **

**_Cross your heart, won't tell no other_ **

**_And though I can’t recall your face_ **

**_I still got love for you_ **

* * *

“Angleterre, look! I’ve found him! The child of the New World!” France exclaimed as he carried the bundle towards his rival, eager to gloat and show off his new fortune. 

England mentally cursed for having chosen the wrong direction to look. “More likely you just swiped a poor woman’s toddler! There’s no way!” 

They had been searching for what felt like ages. Finland had bawled his eyes out about some poor child lost in the wilderness, a day’s journey away from any of the neighboring villages. 

He had practically begged them to intervene, concerned about the Netherlands and what he might do to a poor little colony. A tall and imposing man, his track record with siblings hadn’t been the best and a domestic pair like Finland and Sweden were predictably concerned. 

Idly, England wondered if they were looking for an excuse to play parents, but even he didn’t voice such a rude claim. Homosexuality might be tolerated amongst their kind better than the humans, but it was still somewhat taboo to speak so openly about those kinds of affairs. They happened because of a shortage of female nations, but to assert that anyone would actively choose to be with another man and raise a family with him was ludicrous and insulting--a pervert’s fantasy. 

He was above all that, he assured himself as he admired the swaddled child in France’s arms. Sleepy violet eyes peered up at him from beneath a wavy mess of golden hair. He was lethargic, tired from the journey, but a sweet smile grew on his face when he realized people were paying him attention. 

“He’s a bit big to be wrapped about so tightly,” England commented as he noticed the boy was more like a toddler and less like a newborn. How long had he been out here all alone? 

“He was shivering when I found him. Papa just had to warm him up like this! Who’s going to take good care of mon ange if not me?” France cooed, bouncing the boy in his arms. Realizing the child was probably plenty warm by now, he began to unwrap his little body from the blanket, but the boy made no move to get away. He simply turned into his new guardian and moved to rest his head against his shoulder, like a human toddler sleepily using their parent as a place to nap. “Isn’t he sweet, Angleterre?”

Words could not describe the sort of jealousy Arthur felt. It wasn’t fair. Just because he found the boy didn’t mean he should have the exclusive right to be his guardian. It didn’t matter though. He was too late. He had clearly chosen. 

“I thought Finland said it was a girl,” England recalled, though he supposed with that mop of hair it would be easy to confuse a child’s gender. “What’s his name?” 

“New France!” 

England laughed humorlessly. “No, in all seriousness, what’s the little bugger’s name?” 

“Canada.” 

The voice took both England and France by surprise. It was soft and barely audible, but it clearly came from the boy struggling not to doze off on France’s shoulder. 

“...What?”

“My name is Canada,” he repeated, picking his sleepy head up. Chubby fists rubbed at his eyes and he yawned quietly. Once a bit more awake, he looked about the little camp they had settled. “Where is she?” 

“Where is who, mon cœur?” 

“The girl that I play with,” he said, and England and France shared a look. 

This was not entirely uncommon. Many young nations made playmates amongst the human children, not yet accustomed to their own immortality. This little one was so sweet and so naive. 

“I’m sure she’s fine,” England reassured the boy, patting his head and noting the little curl that stuck out from the rest. Truly adorable. “She probably just went home.”  
“She’s hungry,” he insisted, turning his face into France’s neck. “There’s no food at her place.” 

It was an unfortunate but not uncommon reality for many colonists. France rubbed his back and began to sing a lullaby. 

The New World slept, one in the arms of a protective guardian and the other with nothing but the open sky above to watch over her. 

* * *

**_Love you to the Moon and to Saturn_ **

* * *

“Portugal has been expelled from Nagasaki.” 

The Netherlands sat cross-legged on the tatami floor of the guest room. He filled his pipe with a new drug, pressing it into the bowl while Japan watched. Kiku enjoyed observing his strong hands work with such a tiny instrument, though he wasn’t much for the scent it produced. His nose wrinkled as the smell of tobacco began to fill his room. 

“Good.” 

“Your sister won’t like that you helped stop a Catholic rebellion.”

“My sister is a woman with little virtue to speak of,” he replied, unimpressed. Japan knew that he may speak of Belgium that way, but he would give him a look to kill if he spoke so ill of her. “She’s made her bed with the Spaniard and will let him make the decisions for her now. At least I won’t have to look at his doppleganger anymore when I visit you. I can avoid both of them when I’m here.” 

Japan still didn’t understand the western nations. He studied the books his friend brought him, memorized the maps and soaked up the medical knowledge like a sponge, but their relations were such a tangled web he found he could seldom keep up with. 

“Perhaps you should spend more time with me then,” he suggested, part of his yukata slipping off his shoulder to reveal the pale skin that gave way to gentle bruising. He could see from the small smirk growing around the pipe that the Netherlands had noticed. 

“Give me another port for trade and I’ll consider it.” 

His robe returned to its proper place, covering up all evidence of the previous night’s tryst. “You’re a money-grubber.” 

“And you’re a tease,” he shot back, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “...I’ll get a new sister soon.” 

Japan laughed, as if it were that simple. “You’re still thinking about her, aren’t you? I thought you might have whispered her name last night. If you didn’t want her as a sister, you should have taken her as a bride when you had the chance.” 

“An island-nation such as yourself can’t grasp the complexities of our relationships. I was a boy when I met her and the relation was thrust upon us.” The pipe went back to his mouth, thin but skilled lips wrapping into a tight line around the bit. 

Japan studied his face. He had hit a nerve, but it only confirmed what he suspected all along. Once more, he thought about the impossibility of dealing with western nations. He was right, in a way. Kiku couldn’t understand what it was like for land-locked countries. China wanted to claim him as a younger brother, but he resisted the idea and the ocean between them helped keep his distance. 

“It isn’t a crime to want to lie with a woman every now and again,” he finally said, as if that was any sort of defense. 

“No, but you cannot swap one for the other,” Japan reminded him, though family relationships meant so little between their kind. There either was no real family or they were all related. In truth, family was just a created concept that was often forced upon one another. Before he could think of his own childhood, he asked, “What do you even mean about getting a new sister?” 

“I mean there’s been talk about someone like us appearing in the New World. All that land is just ripe for colonizing. Shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone.”

“Even so, the chances of a girl would be slim,” Japan pointed out, beginning to tug at the European man’s scarf. “Just how badly do you want to replace your salacious sister?” 

With one arm, the Netherlands pulled Japan into his lap and settled him there, the scent of tobacco smoke never stronger in his nose. It came from the New World he was intent on settling. 

“It has less to do with replacing Belgium and more to do with gaining all those resources,” he explained as he slipped a hand beneath his robe, slowly trailing up his thigh. “I have seen her, Japan. Hair like spun gold and eyes like the ocean. She is just like us, but she runs scared like a rabbit when she sees me.” 

Japan leaned against the Dutchman’s sturdy chest and tried to imagine her. All he could see was the tiny painting of Belgium the Netherlands kept in a locket on his person. He was a greedy man, he decided. He wanted to own them, but that was to be expected. They were women, after all. 

“Can a child like her even survive without one of us?” he had to wonder, thinking about a wild girl living in the wilderness. He answered his own question with a theory. “They say Rome was raised by wolves.” 

“It’s none of your concern. She’ll be mine before she’s ever yours. Besides, what woman could ever be an empire?” 

He laid him down and the smell of the New World engulfed him. 

* * *

**_Passed down like folk songs_ **

**_The love lasts so long_ **

* * *

It was decades before they realized their mistake. 

Arthur managed to keep a presence in the New World, managing to even force the Netherlands to turn over his territorial possessions. One day, he would steal Canada back from France. The boy seemed fond enough of him. It wouldn’t be hard to convince the child to put himself in his care if he could just kick the bloody frog out. 

His aspirations didn’t come without headaches though. 

“It is witchcraft, sir! She is not what she appears to be! Not even a witch! Her worldly body is no more! She is but a demon! No matter how many times we try to banish her from this plane, she reappears just the same as she was!” 

The magistrate was distraught as he led him down the aptly named Prison Lane. Arthur himself couldn’t care less about witches in Salem or anywhere else, but the mass hysteria could no longer be ignored, especially when he caught wind that the village was jailing a girl that appeared to be not even seven years old. That was madness that had to be stopped. 

He doubted he would find a witch, he thought to himself as they entered the jail where they were keeping most of the accused. A magical creature was much more likely given the stories that had been reported to him, but on the off-chance this was a human girl with extraordinary magical ability, perhaps even Arthur could learn a thing or two from her. It was a laughable thought. No child should have such talent, not even a prodigy. 

“Right this way, sir.” The man was shaking as he produced a key to the dungeon. The entire jail was a place of festering human misery, but Arthur’s frown turned into a disgusted scowl as a rat scurried past his feet. Even it didn’t want to spend a minute longer in that wretched place. He couldn’t imagine that a little girl was waiting in that darkness all alone. 

Arthur wondered how they could possibly be so frightened of her. Despite what the townsfolk said, it was clear they were trying to kill the child; they were far too civilized to give her an execution date given her age, but the hysterical fear gripped them so thoroughly they believed she really was of the Devil himself. 

He gave the man a look up the stairs when he realized he wasn’t following him, the light of the lantern in his hand growing dimmer as he trudged forward. “Are you not coming along then?” 

He shook his head furiously. “No, sir! I admire your bravery, but I shan’t be bewitched! The girl might well be the antichrist or at the very least his mother!” 

Utter nonsense. Arthur snatched the lantern from his outstretched arm and ventured forth alone.

It was a damp and dreary place that smelled of mold and shit. Jails weren’t meant to be pleasant, but this was clearly a place they put people to die. 

In spite of himself, Arthur could feel his heart beating in his ears. Maybe she really was a demon, or maybe he was about to come upon a poor babe’s corpse. He relished neither outcome. 

“Girl?” he finally called out, worrying about turning his back on a demon or tripping over a body. 

Chains rattled in response. The sweetest voice called out for him. “Finally. I knew you’d come.” 

As soon as the light hit her dirt-stained face, Arthur felt it. He knew instinctively what this girl was. She was filthy and gaunt, a tiny and pathetic thing, but her bright eyes gave away the decades she had already lived. They had chained her like a beast to the wall, familiar with her impossible strength should she be allowed to roam loose. 

Clearly, the chains served no real purpose. 

When the lantern slipped from his hand with the shock of finding someone so young and just like him in the dungeon, she sprang forward and caught it, taking a block out of the wall with her. 

“Oh, no…!” She looked panicked, like a child who had just knocked over an expensive vase. “They’ll take me to the gallows for sure this time!” 

“They’ve threatened you with the hanging tree?” England whispered, watching her try to place the stone back into the wall, her irons dragging across the floor. She looked so weak and fragile, yet she returned the stone to its former home like it was nothing.

“They threaten me with lots of things,” she answered slowly, tilting her head at him in confusion. “I’ve died a few times, but Canada explained it all to me. He said only a nation can really kill another nation. Still, I really hate it. It hurts a lot.” She seemed to recall something. A chill shook her and her child’s body began to convulse with sobs. “ _A lot_. I was only trying to help! I--!” 

England couldn’t take it anymore. “Wait just a moment. I’m getting you out of here.” He left the lantern near her feet and hurried back up the stairs. He would deal with the residents of Salem later, but for now, he just needed to get her someplace safe. She could clearly break free of her shackles if she wanted to, but for some reason she was trying her best to keep up appearances. Arthur wished he could do the same, but he furiously demanded the keys for her freedom. He was in such a state, he was surprised nobody tried to stop _him_ for witchcraft. 

By the time he returned for her, she had nodded off, her body unable to keep her awake any longer. Her physical form had given up. She was freezing to the touch as Arthur took her into his arms, cold from the dungeon and death in equal measure. He would not let go of her until she returned, but they couldn’t possibly stay here. They had to flee, and then he would send the proper authorities to set Salem straight. 

* * *

**_And I've been meaning to tell you_ **

**_I think your house is haunted_ **

**_Your dad is always mad and that must be why_ **

* * *

He bathed her in the Naumkeag River, washing away weeks’ worth of grime. Her hair had looked to be a dark shade of brown when he first saw her, but as his fingers combed through it, he watched it turn to gold before his very eyes. Her skin was like porcelain underneath all that dirt. No wonder water meant rebirth. Just seeing her clean made it clear to Arthur that the girl was no witch, but an angel.

He wrapped her in his coat after that, knowing it would be a few hours before she roused again. Arthur hadn’t the slightest clue who she could be. Canada was supposed to be the New World, but it was clear this little one had been overlooked. Was it because they never expected to be searching for a girl? If he had paid more attention or at least took Finland’s concerns seriously, would he have caught on? 

They should have listened to Canada. The girl he played with wasn’t just any normal girl. She was just like him, born around the same time and struggling to survive. She was practically his twin sister. 

Arthur sat with her beneath a large oak tree, rocking her gently until he started to feel warmth from her skin and color return to her cheeks. He felt responsible for her, and before he even realized it, he had given her a name. 

“England…?” she croaked, feeling him more than seeing him as her consciousness returned. 

“Yes, dear girl. It’s me,” he whispered, stroking back her hair. “Would you like something to eat?” 

The way she sat up quickly made him laugh. She didn’t even question it, just watching him expectantly. Arthur rooted around in his satchel for a moment before producing something burnt and unrecognizable. “Sorry, it got a bit crushed and it’s nothing fancy like France’s food, but--!” 

She didn’t pay his excuses for the appearance of the scone any mind, inhaling the morsel. Starvation would do that to a person. 

Arthur produced an apple from his bag and she reached for it, but he held it above his head, out of her grasp. “You need to slow down. You’ll make yourself sick if you eat too quickly after being starved. Trust me, I know. Though I can’t say I dislike seeing you enjoy my food.” 

“I love your food, England,” she explained, and for once someone was complimenting his cooking without being sarcastic. “The only reason I’ve been able to survive is because of it. I think it’s the best thing in the whole world!” At the very least, it was what she had grown up on. 

“Yes, well, British cuisine is the height of gastronomic excellence, no matter what Canada may tell you. Don’t believe for a moment that the slop the frog serves is any good!” He withdrew a knife and began to slice the fruit carefully for her.

“Got it!” 

He couldn’t help but smile at her shout of affirmation, but it dwindled as he recalled just what she had been put through before he found her. “Darling, I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. Unfortunately, if you’re my little sister, getting confused for a witch will be a fairly common occurrence.” 

She didn’t protest her new relative, but she did reiterate her innocence. “I’m not a witch,” she swore, looking almost comical with crumbs clinging to her chin. “I just didn’t want to hurt them. They’re my people. And I didn’t want them to hurt me anymore either, so it seemed best to just listen and wait for things to change. Another stronger country always comes along and makes things happen eventually.” 

“Well, they’re my people,” England reminded her, giving her a closer look as he passed an apple slice to her. Her eyes reminded him of France’s. Curious. “Are you Salem?” 

The girl shook her head quickly around a mouthful of fruit, shoving the entire piece in her mouth and holding out her hand expectantly for more. 

“You said you’ve only been able to survive because of my food. What do you mean by that?” Arthur asked, wondering just how long she had been overlooked.

“I was dying,” she said simply. “Not like now. Really dying. I was even smaller back then. There were days all I could do was lie in the weeds and try to breathe. I really thought it was the end for me. All my people were leaving. But then you showed up with supplies and food.” 

Her empty hand opened and closed. Arthur placed another apple slice in it, smiling softly as she quickly scarfed that down too. He tried to remember something like that. If she was that small, he might not have even noticed she was like him. She could have blended in with the other children, especially as a girl. 

“When was this?”

“Nearly a hundred years ago, I think. I knew then that I wanted England to be my big brother, but I had to wait. You weren’t looking for me, but others were.” 

Why would he? They had found Canada and thought that was the end of it. Arthur wondered if the Netherlands knew all along and had just failed to tell him. Sly, selfish bastard. 

“You’re Jamestown, aren’t you?” That had been one of his first settlements in the New World. It matched up roughly with the same timeline. The colonists nearly abandoned the settlement, starving and suffering from harsh winters. They only stayed once he brought them spare supplies. Had she really been living all alone for close to a century?

“Maybe once upon a time,” she said, snatching the entire apple from his hand, her impatience getting the better of her. “But I’m not Jamestown either.” 

That surprised him, but they were an awful long way from Virginia. “No? Then who are you, little one?” 

“I’m all your colonies, England.” It was the first time he had ever seen her smile so wide. She wasn’t just proud to be part of the British Empire, she was happy to finally meet him and be with him. _Arthur._ “I’m America!”

His heart skipped a beat. No wonder he had felt so immediately protective of her. This was destiny. They were supposed to be together. She was his darling younger sister. He was finally going to be a big brother. 

“Well, then that makes us family, doesn’t it? Starting today, I’m your big brother!” 

“Mhm~! Okay, big brother!” 

That made him blush a little, but it also reminded him of all his older brothers and how they hated him. He never wanted her to feel the same way. “No...Arthur is fine. That’s my human name. Countries only use their human names with the people who are most precious to them.” 

“O-oh…” She seemed a little unsure, pausing in her destruction of the apple to glance at her feet. Arthur made a note he would need to bring her shoes and better clothes. He was poor right now from all the fighting he’d been doing, but somehow he’d manage. “I don’t have a human name.” 

How sweet and innocent. Now England understood why Francis was so attached to Canada. No matter how penniless he was, a name was one thing he could provide for her. 

“From now on, your human name is Amelia Kirkland,” he decided, running a hand through her hair. He smiled. “What do you think of that?” 

“I love it!” The core fell to the ground at her feet. Before he was ready, she pounced on him, throwing her arms around his neck. “I love you, Arthur! I’m so happy we can finally be together!” 

Little sisters really were the best. France may have Canada, but he had managed to win the greatest prize of all. Arthur’s arms wrapped around her, agreeing with a laugh that they would stay together always. He would protect her and guide her from now on. They would create a beautiful life together. This was his fairytale ending and they were supposed to live happily ever after. 

It wouldn’t last. 

* * *

**_Please picture me in the weeds_ **

**_Before I learned civility_ **

**_I used to scream ferociously_ **

**_Any time I wanted_**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really quite proud of this chapter. There's a lot of historical references and notes laced throughout it, some of which are rather shocking. If you don't think the town of Salem would treat a child that poorly, look up Dorothy Good. She was arrested at four years old, sent to jail at five, and then spent nearly a year in prison before being released on bond. One has to wonder what that did to her. 
> 
> This chapter also contained quite a few of my personal headcanons on nations and their relationships with one another. I really don't see sibling relationships as being anything more than social constructs for them which will be an important note going forward. Netherlands comes off as a bit of a scumbag, but I actually love him. However, if it seems like Kiku doesn't like him very much, you're probably not wrong! That's definitely not a loving relationship right there. 
> 
> I'm still enjoying writing this and think it's an improvement over America Grows (which I'm actually embarrassed by). I'm not sure what happened though, because it seems like people are reading this story but then going and reading that one and dropping kudos on it instead of this one. ^^;


	3. My Tears Ricochet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Japan asks Prussia how he deals with Hungary's past and is given a glimpse into America's fight for independence as a result. Later, Amelia and Kiku discuss family ties and the indulgence of humanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!WARNING!!
> 
> Mentions of sexual violence, violence against women, and Prussia being a dick to prove his point. Nothing graphic, but I like to always give my readers a warning because it is a touchy subject.

* * *

**_We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room_ **

* * *

Kiku wasn’t sure how Prussia did it. 

Japan appreciated Hungary’s spa and bath culture. It was a common topic of conversation for them, one they could speak loudly and openly about in front of the others as opposed to their more hushed conversations about the latest doujinshi tropes they had been enjoying (or in Kiku’s case, producing). 

It was nice to get along well with the significant other of his partner’s friend. Double dates were fairly routine, not only because all parties respected and enjoyed each other’s company, but due to the fact that the other pair understood how important discretion was. They never spoke of their relationships, though it was evident to all involved how things really were. Amelia had privately joked that it was her new ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ policy. He hadn’t found that funny and she knew it, but there was nothing to be done. 

He felt like breaking the policy now though. It was the first time he had ever visited the Rudas Baths with the Prussian, and though he liked the medieval Turkish spas a great deal, he found it odd that the other man had no problem relaxing in a place his lover’s conqueror had built after taking her for his own. It was certainly beautiful and a historical marvel, but no amount of preserved tile or architectural technique would ever allow him to enjoy reminders of Amelia’s struggles. He cared little for Massachusetts, a fact he only realized after exploring both Salem and Boston with her and noticing just how many painful memories they held. He had politely informed his girlfriend he preferred Washington D.C., and she had smiled and teased him. Of course he preferred her capital, where her heart lay and the symbols of their friendship and love for one another dotted the landscape. 

Was there any part of Hungary that hadn’t been touched by Turkey? A century and a half of rule was not an insignificant amount of time, even for the likes of them. She had been blossoming into a young woman at the time. It was not hard to imagine what had happened, especially from what he knew of Amelia’s own experiences. 

“Alright, what is it?” Prussia finally asked, tilting his head back as he rested against the edge of the octagonal pool. He seemed to be completely at ease, lounging in the medicinal water with his eyes shut. “I know you’re quiet, but you’ve been staring at me with this constipated look on your face.” 

“I’m not constipated!” he insisted, wrapping his towel around him a little bit tighter. “I was just thinking about this bath style. That was all!” 

Prussia opened his eyes and stared up at the domed ceiling, light trickling through tiny windows like stars in a night sky. He hummed, considering it, and Kiku immediately felt like apologizing. Perhaps he had been trying to block out the details. Then he smiled. “Yeah! It’s pretty awesome, isn’t it? Hungary used to always tell me I needed to bathe more! I didn’t want to admit it, but there’s really nothing like a bath, huh? This place has a swimming pool too!” 

He didn’t understand him. “Yes, I know…” 

“Ah, come on, Japan. We’ve been allies for a long time!” Prussia suddenly insisted, wading through the water to get closer. He was not respecting the five feet apart rule, an integral part of social media culture that Kiku wished he knew less about. “If the girls are going to have their sissy little shopping day for female _bonding_ or whatever the crap, then we should work on creating stronger relations too!” 

Well. It might help the man feel like he was still a nation if he put it that way. Japan felt that his bonds with Germany were quite secure, but he would never say that to Prussia’s face. 

“I see…” he started slowly, wondering how best to phrase the question. “It’s nothing, really. I was just wondering how you feel about being surrounded by reminders of Hungary’s former...” _Ruler? Owner? Captor?_

“Oh.” Japan didn’t need to fill in the blanks. He understood. 

Kiku was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but the worry that he might have somehow upset Prussia weighed far too heavily on him to stop now. It would be easier to turn the conversation to his own troubles. “Reminders of England are everywhere along America’s Eastern border. Sometimes, it’s a bit bothersome, especially since she doesn’t like to talk about her time as a colony.” 

“Mm. And every time she talks about her independence, it’s always ‘I was so cool!’ and ‘I kicked England’s butt!’ with plenty of ‘Ain’t no party like a Boston tea party because a Boston tea party don’t stop until Boston is put under martial law and everyone is disillusioned with English rule!’, right?” 

“Yes, precisely that.” Unfortunately.   
  
Prussia sighed and ran a hand through his hair, platinum blonde spikes sticking up at odd angles giving him an even more crazed appearance than he usually had. “It’s kind of just inevitable, Japan. There isn’t a single country in this world without scars. Some of us are born covered in them. We all just have to deal with it as best we can.” 

“Yes, but the reminders--!” 

“They’re everywhere. We carry them with us always,” he cut him off, those unusual and disorienting eyes suddenly boring down on him. “You carry scars from her just as she carries scars from you. You can never forget them, but you’ve managed to forgive just the same. It’s pretty dumb to fixate on the past, don’t you think?”

“Knowing the past is important,” Kiku challenged, but it only made Prussia laugh. If only Japan knew the amount of diaries he kept, many which detailed his own cruelties against the woman he loved. It was almost funny how hung up on this Japan was getting. “I just find it hard to understand her sometimes. She forgave England so easily...” 

“Whoa, hold on there. Just because they’re close now doesn’t mean she’s forgiven him. You and I both know there are some things that just can’t be forgiven, Japan. More than just scars, we carry our sins too. What matters more though? The pleasant or painful memories? The trauma of the past or the promise of a beautiful future?” He felt like an old man. Mortality made a nation more thoughtful when it came to these matters though. Gilbert had been through plenty and spent much of his free time thinking. His diaries weren’t just recollections of dates and historical events, but musings on his own humanity, relationships, and individual people. “America was always an optimistic child. Even out of all the New World babies, she’s more bright-eyed than the rest. It’s one of her greatest strengths. Kid doesn’t know when to quit.” 

Sometimes, Kiku forgot that there were other nations aside from England that influenced Amelia’s childhood. Prussia was one such person. “You trained her how to fight.” She had mentioned that once, a long time ago in passing at a farmer’s market near Valley Forge. 

An impish grin spread out across Prussia’s face. “Did a good job of it, if I do say so myself.” He was proud of her, in an odd sort of way. “It wasn’t easy. You try to take a revolutionary little upstart and make her listen to any sort of discipline. I’m not surprised England couldn’t hold on to her. Then again, Eyebrows shouldn’t have tried to change their relationship in the first place. Never works out.” 

Maybe it was the steam that was getting to him or the smell of the mineral water, but Japan felt like he had been digging and digging until suddenly he found liquid gold. It was worth trying to dig just a little deeper, just to see if a new well of knowledge might spring forth. 

“I think I would like to hear about that time,” he admitted, politely imploring him. “I know a fair amount, but I wasn’t there. It would be nice to get someone else’s perspective in addition to her own.” 

Prussia leaned against the edge of the pool and considered his request. “Alright. I get you want to hear some stories about how the awesome me turned America into the powerhouse she is today! It all started after I single-handedly won the Seven Years’ War and sent that sissy aristocrat packing!”   
  
“Please, Mr. Prussia, stay on topic…”

* * *

**_And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too_ **

* * *

It was Prussia himself who put the idea in England’s head, or so he thinks. Nobody can ever say with certainty when England began to consider his colony as a woman, but he knew the moment when it became an inescapable fact his little America was growing up. 

Lords and ladies of her southern elite lined the hall of the elegant Virginia mansion outfitted for the luxurious and celebratory occasion. This was an important moment for the colony, entertaining not only her elder brother, but many of his important associates from Europe. The Treaty of Paris had been signed and America was eager to accept any warm words about her people’s successful resistance during the French and Indian War. She wanted to hold her head high, proud of her prosperity and the way her people had fought alongside England’s to win a war that secured her growth, and that growth was meant to be shown off to all present at tonight’s party. 

She was aging quickly, outpacing her twin in such a way that they were hardly twins at all now--barely even siblings after being pitted against each other like children armed with weapons of men. America had shot up and filled out as a result. She could carry Canada around like a child of her own, her image now that of a human woman who might be married by the first snow of that year. 

“She’s a pretty one, isn’t she?” It was an offhand comment, inoffensive at its core, said with the same passion one might reserve for speaking of a newly christened ship. When Prussia didn’t get a response, he turned to look at England, noticing the way he was suddenly studying his colony, his gaze stopping at her bodice as if he could see her budding chest right through it. 

America laughed, a bit too loud to be ladylike. She looked unabashedly happy, not demure in the slightest as she mingled with everyone as familiarly as if they were kin. There was a fire in her that reminded him of another woman he knew. Coupled with blonde hair and blue eyes in such a young face, Prussia could not help but take a liking to her. If Gilbert allowed himself to dream, she might be what a union between him and Elizabeta could have produced. 

“You’re not the marrying type,” England reminded him, misunderstanding his fondness but calling out the reason those dreams had to die all the same. 

“Marriage is a tool for the weak,” he agreed, watching the colony accept a dance from war hero and local politician George Washington. He noticed the way England’s eyes narrowed--the man had been a vocal critic of his tax policies the past few years. “But if you don’t want to ever fight your precious little America, then you’ll need to reign her in now. Someone else will come along and steal her away from you if you’re not careful. She won’t be content being treated like a child forever.” 

“You should worry about your own sister before you start worrying about mine,” he advised him, but Prussia could tell he touched a nerve. 

“Eyebrows, it’s _because_ of my little sister that I’m warning you now. I couldn’t control her if I tried and we’ve found ourselves on opposite sides of the battlefield. When you awaken the beast, you have to be prepared for it to come for you as well. America might look cute, but you’ve told us yourself of her unnatural strength. What will happen when it’s left unchecked?” 

England’s hand tightened around his glass as he watched the colonist whisper in America’s ear. He wished she blushed or excused herself, but instead she only looked mildly curious and then laughed as if he had told her a joke. What could they possibly be talking about? As far as he knew, the man was happily married and he would get nowhere talking politics with Amelia. He wouldn’t allow it. 

Perhaps Prussia had a point. 

* * *

**_Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe_ **

**_All the hell you gave me?_ **

**_'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you_ **

**_'Til my dying day_ **

* * *

“What is this?” England’s voice barely contained his anger as he held up a document for her to see. Her eyes finally left the spot they were burning into the wood paneling of his study, flicking to the piece of parchment and then away just as quickly like a flame in the wind. 

“The Virginia Resolves,” she answered, taking no care to explain it any further. He could read. He knew what it was, what it meant. 

“The Virginia Resolves,” he repeated, setting the text aside and pushing away from his desk. She didn’t move, her posture unusually perfect as she waited to be dismissed. There was nothing to be so upset about. It was old news, along with her Stamp Act Congress, all gone with the Declaratory Act. “And this?”

He came closer, footsteps heavy, but Amelia did not take a step back. She recognized that pamphlet as well. “Why, those are merely _Letters from a Farmer in Pennsylvania,_ ” she said with a fond little smile, and finally Arthur snapped. 

“More like letters from a lawyer that doesn’t want to pay taxes!” he accused, throwing down the European pamphlet. Amelia almost smirked. They had been printed throughout her colonies in newspapers, practically unavoidable.   
  
“You’re getting worked up over nothing,” she reassured him. “All it argues is that Parliament has the authority to regulate my trade but not to raise revenue from it.” 

“It is not _nothing_ , Amelia! Bostonians locked a customs official in a ship cabin while a cargo of Madeira wine was unloaded in an effort to evade the Townshend Acts!”

Now she was beginning to grow agitated. “And you confiscated that ship for use in the Royal Navy! A private citizen’s ship!” 

“Which your citizens then burned off the coast of Rhode Island--an open act of defiance against the Crown!” 

“And they were right to do so!” she argued back, meeting his glare with one of her own. “The Sugar Act, the Currency Act, the Stamp Act, the Quartering Act, and the Townshend Act--! When will I be allowed to act for myself, Arthur?!” 

It was all coming to pass. He didn’t even know the young woman standing in front of him anymore. His body was shaking with rage. “ _Never_ ,” he managed to hiss. “I have given you more freedom than any other colony, Amelia Kirkland, but I will _not_ allow you to openly defy me. The fact that you can’t get your colonists under control--!” 

“--Because I have no desire to control them--!” 

“ONLY PROVES TO ME THAT YOU ARE INCAPABLE OF INDEPENDENCE!” he roared over her interruption. 

It was silent for a moment. He could see her thinking and Arthur was beginning to understand that was a dangerous thing. 

“I’m not incapable of anything, England.” 

* * *

**_We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean_ **

**_Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring_ **

**_You know I didn't want to have to haunt you_ **

**_But what a ghostly scene_ **

* * *

Their fights continued. Amelia wouldn’t even acknowledge him by his human name anymore. He had raised a spoiled and stubborn little brat, but even so, he shouldn’t have lost his temper with her the way he did.

It made him sweat. Marks shouldn’t appear on their bodies unless it was a significant event. It was as if he had reached out to strangle her himself, five bruises around her neck--one for each colonist killed. 

“The Townshend Acts have been repealed,” he tried to soothe her, having acquiesced after all in the wake of the riots. 

“They still exist on tea,” she muttered miserably, turning a page of the book she was reading without having understood a word of it. Her mind was too busy to focus, but she didn’t want England to engage her in conversation. It was her turn to be furious. 

“Amelia...Is it so awful to be mine?” he asked her suddenly, taking her hand before she could leaf through another dozen pages she wasn’t reading. He looked a little pathetic. She could see in his eyes that he was begging her not to hate him. “Would it make it better if I made you my woman instead of my sister? There’s really not much more a girl like you could ask for.” 

She yanked her hand away from him. “Why? Why couldn’t I ask for more?” Amelia set her book aside and gathered her skirts, rising from the armchair. “Because I’m a colony? Because I’m a woman?”

“Well, it’s--!” Arthur struggled with matters of the heart. He wished he could be as talented as France when it came to this sort of thing, but he would rather die than admit that to the other man. He might even get it in his head that they should practice together or some other such nonsense. “It’s both, isn’t it?” 

That had clearly been the wrong answer. “Good night, England.”

He grabbed her arm, keeping her from leaving before hearing him out. “Amelia, wait! I’m serious! I would marry you! You’ve become a true beauty with a wonderful endowment and I am the greatest Empire to ever live, the finest Kingdom this world has ever known!” It was a shallow proposal, but that didn’t make it any less true in Arthur’s mind. They just needed to come together again. They had hit a rough patch in their relationship, but women desired marriage and men who would treasure them for the rest of their days. He might not look at her so romantically, but he would certainly have no problem treating her like a prized possession! 

“I will not trade in one form of ownership for another!”

The force with which she pushed him off of her should have tipped him off she would not go quietly.

* * *

**_You wear the same jewels that I gave you_ **

**_As you bury me_ **

* * *

“It’s fun for the three of us to finally be on the same side, non?” 

“Are we really on the same side though? Prussia’s king doesn’t seem keen to pick fights with England. And he usually does everything that guy says!” Spain pointed out with a laugh, his halberd slung over his shoulder. 

“Old Fritz is a political genius,” Gilbert retorted, not wanting anyone to get things confused. “We can’t support this conflict openly, so we’ll take the neutral route, but I’ve been given permission to train the girl up. It’s just the awesome, big brotherly thing to do!” 

France didn’t like that. How dare these two think they could just move in to steal America away. He had already lost Canada. He wasn’t about to give up on her too. “Excusez-moi, don’t forget whose little sister she is! Aren’t you being greedy? You already have a darling girl! Leave mine alone!” 

It was Amelia’s turn to interject, not even turning to look at the trio of fools. “I’m really not interested in becoming anyone’s little sister again. The whole point of this war is to be independent. By the time this is over, I’ll be just like the three of you.” 

The men shared a look. Prussia frowned and jumped up from his seat, joining the colony where she stood, her gaze focused on the Pennsylvania landscape. 

“You want to be just like one of us?” he asked her, leaning a little too close for her Amelia’s tastes. 

She leaned back, looking uncomfortable. “Yes. I want to be so strong nobody can ever own me ever again.” 

“An understandable desire,” he acknowledged, straightening up and staring her down, appraising her. “But are you willing to fight for it?” 

“I already said I was,” she said, giving him a confused glance. “That’s why you’re here. You’re going to help me win.” 

“We’ll give you the tools you need to win,” he agreed. “But nobody is going to fight this battle for you, sweetheart. Are _you_ prepared to fight for it? To _suffer_ for it? What would you give for your freedom?” 

“I know war,” she insisted, insulted that her victories from not even two decades ago were already forgotten. 

“No, child. You know _about_ war. You’ve _read_ about war,” Prussia corrected, throwing his arms open wide, his bombastic personality oozing out of every word. “But you don’t _know_ war. My training will prepare you for it, but you’ve got to be strong enough to understand that what I’ll put you through is nothing compared to what your enemies will do to you should you fail.” 

Amelia looked to France and Spain with an incredulous scoff, but both had equally serious expressions on their faces. She turned her attention back to Prussia. “I can handle it.”

“Good. Then we’ll start now,” he said, pacing a few steps away from her and then turning on his mark, as if they were about to engage in a duel. 

Amelia could hardly believe him. She glanced down at herself, still wearing all the skirts and accoutrements of a lady. “...Now?” 

“What? You think England is going to wait for you to be outfitted properly?” he asked, drawing his saber.

Her eyes widened, but she stayed rooted on her mark. “You can’t be serious. I don’t even have a sword!” 

“That’s just too bad, isn’t it?”

Amelia turned to the other nations present for help. “Hey, Spain, lend me your ax!” 

The Spaniard glanced at the colony, then his weapon of choice. “Hm...But if I lend this to you, then I don’t have anything to defend myself if France decides to attack me.” 

France said nothing. He crossed his arms over his chest and steeled his expression. None of this might seem fair, but it would be a good lesson. 

“France--!” Amelia attempted to ask for help, but before she could, she felt the sting of a punch against her cheek. It knocked her off balance, the ground hitting her back with enough force to wind her. 

He had attacked when she wasn’t paying attention. She swung her head to look up at him, but she didn’t have to go far. The Prussian was already on top of her, pinning her arms down. 

“You’re a woman,” he reminded her harshly, the shock of this sort of treatment making her blood run cold. Cruel, red eyes appraised her body as he found his knife, raising it to her dress, slashing at the fabric. “This is what happens when you lose.”

Amelia felt like she was about to fall victim to one of England's fairytales. It was as though a giant eagle swooped down on top of her, the talons gripping her tight and scratching at her skin. The shock of it all was enough to immobilize her, body limp the same way a rabbit plays dead when it's being carried off in the maw of a predator.

When it became clear he wasn't fixing to stab her but to undress her, she finally remembered herself and began to beg. “No! No, please--! Stop!” 

As much as she squirmed beneath him, he kept her pinned. Her dress tore. The sound of her dignity being pulled away from her was enough for America to find her strength and finally punch back, knocking the man so hard in the head he stopped. 

Amelia breathed heavily underneath him as he recovered. She watched him like a wild, cornered animal. “That’s it?” he asked, working his jaw, glowering at her all the while. “I just tried to defile you and you hit me only once? Do you think that’s going to get me to stop when my hatred and my rage for all the pain and embarrassment you've caused me boil over? War reduces us to our worst instincts!” 

She could hardly breath, her chest heaving with the effort while her hair fell in her face, blond curls unable to hide her wide and frightened eyes. She had never been punched before. Getting slapped was child's play. To be thrown down like she was nothing? “I--!” 

“Listen to me, America,” Prussia hissed, sheathing his knife with a scowl. “This was a warning. This was _practice._ Men do not show mercy on the battlefield, and while chivalrous tales might lead to you believe that as a woman you’ll be shown some special sort of treatment…!” 

His lips curled into a snarl. It was as though he was recalling every heinous crime he had ever seen committed right before his very eyes all at once. 

He bowed his head and sighed. “You’ll be given special treatment, sure. Men don’t show other men mercy, but they might allow them dignity. Women get cruelty. There are fates worse than death, America. You can’t count on anyone to save you. The only person you can rely on is yourself.” 

She was shaken as he finally got off of her. Like frightened prey, she followed his every move. 

“It’s not my job to coddle you, nor is it my job to turn you into a man. Frankly, I don’t give a shit what’s between your legs.” He never had. Genitals seemed completely inconsequential to him. He’d been knocked around by Hungary enough to know that an ass-kicking from a woman was no different than one from a man, but it wasn’t always the same the other way around. Even if he trusted England not to hurt his former colony in that way, she had to be prepared for the consequences of future failures if she was going to cast off the protection of an empire. 

“My job is to make sure you _survive_.” He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it at her, covering up the torn gown and frightened little girl he had revealed. “If you’re serious about this--if you think you can handle the weight that being a nation carries with it, all the consequences and the costs--then we start tomorrow at dawn.” 

He left her in the care of his friends, praying to God they wouldn’t comfort her. She needed to learn. 

France found him later that evening as he sat down to write his daily journal entry. 

“What?” he asked as his old friend joined him by the fire, sitting across from him slumped over, elbows on his thighs and a troubled expression on his face. “Do you think I was too harsh with her?”   
  
“On the contrary, mon ami...If anything, you were too soft. We may well be sending that girl to her death.” 

* * *

**_I didn't have it in myself to go with grace_ **

**_'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave_ **

**_And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?_ **

* * *

Gilbert was disappointed but not surprised to find her missing the next day. It was a cold February morning and he had joined Baron von Steuben to assess the state of the American ‘military’, if it could even be called that. 

“This is a shit show,” he muttered to himself in German as he looked at the ragtag group of soldiers, almost none of them dressed properly. “Alright...Let’s begin.” 

It was a shame the kid wasn’t up to the task. Her men had heart and they liked it when he swore at them, though one young punk in particular seemed to be doing his best not to absolutely lose it as he drilled them at the bayonet. The poor boy was doing everything in his power not to laugh and stay focused. 

Prussia would have given him more shit for it if he wasn’t such a natural. Scrawny looking as he may be, the young man had an unusual strength. It surprised him, especially with such a girly-looking face. No matter what drill he ran, he was clearly giving it his all and seemed to take to it like a fish to water.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Jones.” He recognized that voice. “From this point on, call me Jones.”

* * *

**_And I can go anywhere I want_ **

**_Anywhere I want, just not home_ **

**_And you can aim for my heart, go for blood_ **

**_But you would still miss me in your bones_ **

* * *

The girl had many talents, but none was more evident than her skill with a firearm. Her marksmanship was something out of folklore. With a long rifle in hand, America struck fear into the hearts of her own generals. If she could see a target, there was a damn good chance she could hit it. 

Washington found Guerilla warfare tactics distasteful, but Prussia and France watched her take pride in surprising people. Whenever she had free time, she seemed to be practicing loading and unloading the weapon. It was a handmade piece and the caliber of ammo differed, but her hands worked expertly, loading and unloading just to practice, just to get the feel of it so even when her back was against the wall, even if she lost a leg or an arm or both her eyes she could still somehow manage to kill the person who hurt her.

England didn’t hold back. It was tough to watch the way her body began to bruise and bleed with every loss, but she handled it well. They all knew it hurt, but she hid her wounds, continued to drill, continued to believe, continued to practice, continued to give every part of herself to this effort. 

It was that obsessive will to survive that soon translated into success. After the Battles of Saratoga, France had seen enough. America had proven she was strong enough to live this sort of life. She had the will, the drive, and the talent. 

It was fun for Prussia to see her come into her own. By the Battle of Cowpens, he was certain she no longer needed him. She performed one of the most successfully executed double envelopments of all of modern military history. To this day, Gilbert has never seen anything quite like it. It was _the_ tactical masterpiece of the war and America owed a large part of that to her beloved Pennsylvania rifle and the talent of her fellow Virginia riflemen. 

He couldn’t tell her then that it was over. He let her celebrate her victory, unwilling to let her get too cocky. It was written all over France’s face though. He knew it too. 

“I think it’s about time I remind Angleterre that the girl isn’t alone and he can still lose on the water, too. I hear the Chesapeake is simply lovely in the Fall.” 

“Don’t think he’ll be too happy to see you after this,” Prussia noted, knowing that as much as his old friend claimed to detest England, he held a deep respect for him like no one else. 

France was rarely serious, but England was someone precious to him no matter how much they quarreled. This was his way of checking up on him, even if he was delivering a beatdown at the same time. He would no doubt start to prepare him for the inevitable.

* * *

**_And I still talk to you (When I'm screaming at the sky)_ **

**_And when you can't sleep at night (You hear my stolen lullabies)_ **

* * *

“Hey, Britain...” She could see that he didn’t recognize her until he heard her voice. No surprise there. She had cut her hair and her face was caked with dirt, her lady’s attire swapped for a military uniform that hid all her feminine features. “All I want is my freedom. I’m no longer a child, nor your little sister. From now on, consider me independent!” 

He stared at her like a waking nightmare, completely aghast, unable to comprehend how all the fighting had come down to this. He was beaten. “No!” 

The way he charged her was a shock. He couldn’t possibly think there was any reason to continue fighting, but Amelia only just had time to shield her body with her precious rifle, the force still sending it flying from her hands and into the mud. 

“I won’t allow it!” he panted, pointing his bayonet in her face. “You idiot, why can’t you follow anything through to the end?”

This was all just for show at this point. Even Amelia knew that, staring him down as her men surrounded them. “Ready, aim!” There was simply no way she could lose. 

“There’s no way I can shoot you. I can’t.” It was an embarrassing display. Hot, angry tears began to stream down Arthur’s face as he dropped his weapon and sank to the ground. “Why? Dammit, why?! It’s not fair!” 

“You know why,” she said gently as she stood over his sobbing form, remembering a time when she had been tiny and England had been her whole world. A part of her would always miss placing her hand in his when he called for them to go home together. “You used to be...so big…”

* * *

**_I didn't have it in myself to go with grace_ **

**_And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves_ **

**_You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same_ **

**_Cursing my name, wishing I stayed_ **

* * *

“I can't ever called him my older brother ever again. So now...I guess he’s like my dad,” Amelia admitted as Kiku looked upon that scratched up rifle she just couldn’t bring herself to part with. “England and I have reinvented our relationship a few times. He’s important to me. He’s always going to be important to me.” 

It was rare for her to speak so openly about her feelings towards her former caretaker, but she was trying her best to let Kiku in. This sort of thing was still hard for her to talk about, but it had been over a century since they had reinvented themselves. 

“The older we get--the more we both grow up--the more it just works for us, even if it's not always perfect or quite the same. I think France has been a good influence on him. It’s like we’re a family now.” 

“Not many nations have the sort of connection you do,” Kiku remarked, feeling strangely at peace with the memorabilia that decorated her living room. It was a little easier to grasp now. “It is almost like you’re a family. You have your brother, Canada, and now you’re saying France and England are like your parents?” 

“As close to parents as people like us can have. I think we’ve just gotten better at compartmentalizing our feelings and our relationships for any given situation. It’s not like I expect him to treat me like a daughter, and he doesn’t expect me to treat him like a dad. The little colony he once knew is long dead to him. He doesn’t like to bring it up, and neither do I. But sometimes…” 

Sometimes when she and Matthew come to visit and they’re all using their human names, when they all wear ugly Christmas sweaters (except for Francis, who doesn’t know how to _do_ ugly), or when they call on Father’s Day even if they never mention that’s why they’re calling…

“It’s just nice,” she summed up with a shrug. “With them, when we’re not working, I can allow myself to feel just a little bit human. I think that’s important. I know people like Prussia will say that we can never forget that we’re nations first and foremost, but I don’t want to forget my humanity either. I think that _can_ be a strength. I won’t let my heart bleed out, but is it really so wrong to care about people?” 

It was like she was looking for his permission to allow herself to love someone. Kiku understood her just a little bit more in that moment. If she had voiced that thought to anyone else, it might have turned into a debate. They might have thought less of her, considered her weak, too feminine in the best yet most detrimental of ways. 

“No, Ami. I don’t think it’s wrong to care about people even if we know it will hurt. We all go through our lives hurting others and being hurt in turn,” he reminded her, cupping her cheek and stroking away a stray tear that had started to run down her face, probably without her even realizing. 

Sometimes she did that, a startling quality he found somewhat endearing. Amelia was an expert at crying silently. Nations weren’t allowed to cry, and female nations even less so. But Amelia always felt things intensely. She couldn’t stop herself from crying, but she had somehow managed to learn how to keep herself quiet, to keep her face from scrunching up, to keep her hands from rubbing at her eyes. 

He pressed his forehead against hers. “This is our lot in life as nations. It's inescapable. There’s a very real possibility that I will hurt you or you will hurt me in the future. It could be ten years from now or hundreds of years from now. We might not forgive each other for a long time.” 

“I know. But I also know you,” she said with a smile that cut through the droplets running down her cheeks. “I love you more than anyone in this whole world. If it’s you, then I know we’ll always rebuild. You're someone I'll always reinvent myself with until we can be happy and together again.”

“I agree. We’ve done it before.” 

She nodded and began to laugh as she wiped at her own face. She felt silly, and with anyone else she would have hidden herself away ages ago. But this was Kiku. She was safe with him and any of her tears wouldn't be held against her. “All of the hurt or the negativity that comes from being involved with you just ricochets off of me. I can’t absorb it.” 

He was honored to be a part of that small circle of Amelia’s. In truth, he always knew she was like this, but to hear her be vulnerable in front of him so easily made Kiku aware not only how deep the connection was on her end, but his as well. 

In spite of everything, he loved her dearly and knew that these happy moments could only exist and be cherished so ardently because of all that they had been through together. No matter the hardship, he was inclined to work through it with Amelia. 

“No more tears, Ami,” he murmured, not because he needed her to be strong, but because he couldn’t stand to see her upset anymore. The way he was soon kissing teeth instead brought a smile to his own face as he heard her laugh. 

That was a sound worth leaving isolation for. 

* * *

**_Look at how my tears ricochet_ **

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was way longer than it had any business being. Seriously. But there are a lot of historical references sprinkled throughout the chapter. A lot of research went into this, so I hope you guys enjoy!


	4. Mirrorball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia finds refuge in Kiku's summer home and muses on the reality that the more things change, the more they stay the same. They reminisce about their first meeting and how they came to be friends. Kiku considers the way Amelia had always been and the way she has grown. Amelia continues to disappoint her boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might need some clean-up. I took some liberties with the dates, but overall there was a fair amount of historical research that went into this. Unsurprisingly, it was hard to find things about such time-specific topics like 'Edo attitudes towards sex' (are a man and a woman permitted to be alone together or not?!), but I had a lot of fun looking up things about kimonos and even the town Kiku and Amelia like to holiday in.

**_I want you to know_ **

**_I'm a mirrorball_ **

**_I'll show you every version of yourself tonight_ **

* * *

It was always a nice change of pace after the fireworks back home. The cicadas buzzed just outside the screen door, and she could hear Kiku preparing freshly cut fruit in the other room. A fan hummed softly on the corner of a tatami mat, clicking as it oscillated. She could have fallen asleep in the shade of the roof just outside the shoji doors, could have woken up to a velvet voice calling her name and telling her it was time for dinner. 

Instead, Amelia was listening to her boss’s voice grating on her ears and her nerves. “Are you in Korea  _ again _ ?” he asked after berating her for her choice of clothing at the last summit. 

“No, sir,” Amelia replied, flipping through an empty legal pad. “I’m in Japan. It’s a different country.” 

“Listen, no one is a bigger fan of Japan than me,” he carried on as if he had been correct with his first guess. Amelia returned to her pad, pen scribbling at paper furiously. “But you’ve been spending a lot of time in Tokyo and for what? It’s not like Japan is going to come to your aid if you get attacked! He’ll probably just watch it on one of his Sony televisions!”    
  
Highly doubtful. Even if the country itself didn’t offer aid--and she would be surprised if it didn’t--Kiku would be there to help her pick up the pieces of whatever she was going through personally. He had done it before and he would do it again. That was all she really needed from him. 

“I’m not in Tokyo. I’m in Hakone,” she corrected with a gentle smile, fixing her gaze on her boss through the screen. Maybe she could finally get him to remember something about this country and turn it into a teachable moment. “You would love it here, sir! It’s got plenty of golf courses and I just know Japan’s boss-- _Shinzo Abe_ \--would be totally down to talk business on the green!”    
  
“Sure, sure. I’d be open to it. Just remember what we talked about, sweetheart.” Her fingers twitched, but he continued without any notice and Amelia returned to her work. “You can leave everything to me. I’ve got the best people taking care of you. You don’t need to be flying all over the world talking to losers who don’t matter. If you’re going to spend that much time abroad, why don’t you go to Russia and--!”    
  
Her pen stopped. “Ah, sorry, sir! The connection is really bad!” She reached out and began to shake her webcam.    
  
“Amelia?! Amelia!”   
  
“It’s--! Breaking--!” She froze in place and didn’t say anything. “Up! Go--tt-ttaaaa goooo!” 

“Someone fix this! Amelia! Remember what we talked about, next time wear a dress and--!” 

She hung up on him, a sigh immediately heaving from her body. Amelia took a moment to herself and massaged the space between her eyebrows, just trying to bring herself back to those feelings of serenity this place instilled upon her. She closed her eyes. Cicadas. A fan. The jangle of chimes in the gentle summer wind. 

The sound of the knife on the cutting board was missing. She opened her eyes slowly and sighed once more before standing up with her notepad in hand. 

Without a word, she entered the kitchen of Kiku’s summer home to find him yukata-clad and sprinkling li hing mui powder on pineapple stars. The blonde observed his delicate work as she draped herself over him from behind, wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her face into his shoulder. 

“How did your meeting go?” he asked, offering her up a bite of a shared favorite snack, not even glancing at her as he carried on with his task. Her lips accepted the sweet treat, gently kissing the tips of his fingers as they pulled away. She held up her notes for him to see. “That’s just my name with a bunch of hearts scribbled around it…”

“No,” she insisted around a mouthful of pineapple. “It’s very important notes from my very important meeting with my very important boss.” 

“I see. And what country does he think you’re in this time?” 

“Korea,” she sighed as she finally let him go, leaning over the counter next to him. “It was a solid fifteen minutes of griping about my clothes and then telling me to stop trying to do my job." She left out the part about him encouraging to go spend more time with Ivan. It wasn't worth bringing up. It would only irritate her boyfriend and she had no plans to follow through anyway. "So you know...The usual.” 

Kiku poked her bare thigh. “He might have a point about your clothes. How many times do I have to tell you to stop having virtual meetings in your underwear? I swear, you’re no better than Italy.” 

“What’s wrong with it? They can only see my top!” she insisted, snatching another piece of fruit. “Besides, don’t you like seeing me like this~?” Her hips swayed from side to side, trying to entice him. “Does Italy do this for you?”    
  
“Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” he asked, swatting her backside hard enough to sting. “Put your pants on!”

“Ow! Hey!” she whined, pouting and aggressively shoving a pineapple star in his face in retaliation. He didn’t seem fussed, munching on it as if to prove that he wasn’t backing down, the same way he had when Germany had tried to put him on a diet. “Hm...Does Italy really shake his ass for you?” 

“No. He just shakes his ass in general,” Kiku noted. “Haven’t you noticed?” 

“Sort of. He’s kinda cute, so you just end up forgiving him, you know?” 

“I can’t disagree. His cuteness is unique for a man,” he conceded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been trying to convince him that even Germany would be pleased to see him in a neko-maid costume, but so far I haven’t had any luck…”

“Maybe it’s because he knows you’d take pictures, you pervert.” 

“But you’d want to see them, right?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and looking at her expectantly. 

Amelia was quick to agree. "Oh, hell yeah. You could probably sell that sort of thing too, but that feels kinda like it would be illegal, or something.” 

“Even if it wasn’t, I think Germany would do something unspeakable to us if we tried…” 

“Hm…” Disappointing, but not at all surprising. After a moment of silence, she asked, “You really never had a crush on Italy?” 

He had to laugh. That was funny. “Italy?! Of course not!” 

“But he’s a good-looking guy!” Amelia insisted, honestly curious. “Or are you saying...you’ve had a crush on me since the moment we met~?” 

“No, definitely not.” His face was stone-cold.

The light-hearted conversation suddenly took a turn. “Jeez, shut me down faster,” she said sarcastically, though her feelings weren’t at all hurt. 

“Well? Did you have a crush on me when we met?” Kiku asked, equally curious. 

“Nah...I don’t think I had a crush on anyone at that time. I mean, I definitely had a small crush on Prussia back in the day, but--hey, don’t look at me like that! He was super cool and taught me how to fight! I thought he was--!”

“Don’t say it.” 

“--awesome!” Kiku removed the fruit tray from Amelia’s reach. “Dude!” 

As a peace offering, he handed over a single slide of pineapple, the flesh already turning a dark red from the powder. He kept the rest for himself, carrying it out of the kitchen and to the tea room. Like an eager puppy, Amelia followed after him. 

There was a comfortable silence as they changed venues, and it didn’t take long for Amelia to find herself laying on the tatami floor with her head in Kiku’s lap, his fingers gently threading through her hair, just listening to the sounds of summer.

“Come to think of it...Today hasn’t been so unlike the day we first met.” 

“I’m not sure I can bring myself to agree,” he admitted as he watched her peaceful face. She had aged since that time, if only slightly. It was her eyes that gave it away, but as long as they remained closed he could picture her as the young girl that once came to his shores, a complete and total contrast to how he had imagined her in his head. “It was much louder that day.”

* * *

**_I'll get you out on the floor_ **

**_Shimmering beautiful_ **

**_And when I break, it's in a million pieces_ **

* * *

Three military bands. That was how many she brought along to announce her formal arrival for their very first meeting, nation to nation. 

He hadn’t expected a female country to force his hand like this. 

Out with one blonde menace, in with another, he supposed. It was funny how Kiku almost missed the Netherlands. At least he was a known entity, a man he understood, just as surely as he knew his personal visits would become less frequent once his sister was back under his control. He had lost her again already, and Kiku was a bit curious to inquire about what exactly transpired between them, but his affairs kept the Netherlands away and that was just as well. He didn’t care so much to send a letter, especially lest the imposing man think he was inviting him back. 

He just wanted to be left alone. 

Now he was facing a completely unknown variable. All he had heard about America was hearsay and he could barely make sense of any of it. This was the maiden who had defeated an empire, a bloodthirsty beast of a broad who clawed and pecked at any nation until she got what she wanted. Her people had certainly threatened him enough times to give that rumor weight. 

Even so, she was still a woman. A fairly pretty one, by all accounts. He had never met a male nation that could be described as ugly, and why should a female one be any different? But the way men spoke of her, coveted her, and simultaneously held her on a pedestal made him wonder if she really was such a goddess. 

She certainly seemed to think herself one, or perhaps a saint; telling European powers to stay out of the New World had her received warmly in many of Spain’s colonies, though there was little power behind such declarations. She was positioning herself to be the de facto ruling power in that hemisphere under the guise of altruism. Whether or not she personally believed she was doing those struggling freedom fighters a favor was something he wouldn’t be able to discern until he met her, however anxious he was to do so. 

He couldn’t decide how big of a threat she was, but the white flag she gifted him in advance along with a letter from her Commodore Perry promising he would be vanquished if he chose combat instead of opening up his ports to her left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Coupled with the paralyzation of his own government, Kiku's hands felt tied. He had no choice but to face this she-demon saint and accept virtually all of her demands. It gave him a stomachache for now, but that was better than a perpetual headache or certain death.

As  _ The Star-Spangled Banner _ played, she finally descended from one of those monstrous black ships, refusing any and all help from the most disagreeable military veteran who had been a thorn in his side for years now. The man’s scowl followed her as she held her skirts and practically ran towards him. 

Kiku’s eyes narrowed and his hand twitched at his side, ready to draw his sword if she was barreling towards him for a fight. 

On closer inspection though, the madwoman was smiling. “Japan!” she called, continuing to hustle towards him as the band picked up its tempo, trying to match their mistress and her hurried pace. The lady seemed to remember herself and slowed, putting on a proper expression while her chaperone hurried to catch up. 

His hand relaxed as the song came to an end and she came upon him just as it finished. Though she was trying to put on airs of propriety, he could see now that he had completely miscalculated. 

“You’re Japan, right?! It’s so lovely to meet you! I’ve been hearing tons of stories about you and I--!” 

“Excuse me,” Commodore Perry interjected, and the young lady beside him quieted. “If you would please allow me to formally introduce you to my country, Miss United States of America. She has insisted on coming all this way to meet you.” 

Now he understood it. 

This woman wasn’t a war hawk or a deity. She wasn’t a barbarian or a saint. 

This girl--this _child_ _\--_ was a pretty little puppet, strung up by her own government for all to focus on while they pulled her strings. This visit was an indulgence and nothing more. Perhaps they thought he would be distracted by her, but he wasn’t so young and careless that he would allow a spoiled brat to derail him. 

He need not pay her any real attention. She was entitled to as much of his time and attention as her own government gave her. 

Japan bowed politely. “Miss America. It’s a great honor to officially welcome you to my home.” Begrudgingly. “I have prepared gifts for your arrival. Please allow my people to show you Japanese hospitality.” 

“Oh, thank you! It’s--!” 

“Japan,” Perry cut her off again, and Kiku turned to address the person truly in charge of this expedition. He would never allow anyone aside from his boss to undermine him so publicly, but America only looked down at her shoes in embarrassment. “We have matters to discuss that I do not want to delay.” 

“Yes. You’ve returned earlier than anticipated." That was Russia's fault and he knew it. He was tired of all of them. "Very well. Come along then.” 

As soon as America went to take a step in turn with them, her guardian placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. 

“Return to the ship, love. I’ll make sure to negotiate a way for you to walk about freely and explore soon. Leave everything to me.” 

* * *

**_I'm a mirrorball_ **

**_I can change everything about me to fit in_ **

* * *

He ignored her the best he could that first week.

Every day, she tried to gain his attention and ask for at least a bit of time spent together. Every day, he rebuffed her with a polite smile before passing her off to a local guide. 

Amelia was used to being disregarded by the men who ran her government, but she hadn’t anticipated someone like her would do the same. 

This was the first time she had been allowed to leave her shores on a diplomatic mission. There was a great big world out there and America just wanted to explore it. She hoped she could make friends as her own person, not just as England’s former colony the European powers had to tolerate. 

Japan felt like a fresh start, especially since he had kept himself so isolated. She felt like she had been isolated for the longest time too and thought they might be able to bond over that sort of thing, but it was clear now that the other immortal being had no interest in her. He wouldn’t even take meals with her.

He hated her. That was the conclusion Amelia came to. No matter what she did, he wouldn’t speak to her for more than five minutes at a time and he always treated her like a kid that needed to be distracted rather than taken seriously. 

It was a shame, really. She had never met a country more interesting than him. His food, his architecture, his customs, his fashion, and even his language were all so different from her own. There was so much to see and learn that it was overwhelming, but she at least knew where to start.

The children were wary of her at first. Everything from her hair to her clothes put them on edge, but no matter where in the world a person goes, the little ones are always curious. 

They observed her as she removed her boots and left them at the edge of the beach. Proper manners need not be observed in a place as foreign as this. Amelia raised her skirts and began to draw in the sand with her toes, trying her best to write out the hiragana symbols her interpreter had given her an overview of. 

Up and down the shoreline, she practiced shaky characters, until eventually even the children a good distance away from her could recognize what she was trying to do. When they stared at her, she simply smiled at them knowingly, inviting them to keep on watching her, dancing along the sand between every hiragana character etched into the shoreline. 

By the end of the day, some of the braver children had taken to covering up her work, drawing their own pictures instead. They shared the beach, and by the end of the week, they shared their games as well. 

The gift of seashells Kiku’s people had given her as a formality paled in comparison to the ones she picked along the shore with the children of his land.

* * *

**_You are not like the regulars_ **

**_The masquerade revelers_ **

**_Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten_ **

* * *

After two weeks of play, immersion into Japanese language and culture, and odd looks from concerned parents who weren’t thrilled by the foreigner entertaining and babysitting their children, he finally agreed to meet with her. 

His smile wasn’t so polite this time around, Amelia thought to herself as she was escorted through his compound by Japan himself. She felt like she had stepped into a trap laid by a shapeshifter. Japan seemed to wear an unbreakable mask but it felt like he was ready to remove it himself at any moment. The air was too tense. 

“Are you enjoying your time here in Japan?” he finally asked after an uncomfortable amount of silence. “The children seem taken with you.” 

“I’m quite taken with them,” she replied as he pulled back one of those curious paper-screen doors. “They’ve been the best part of my visit thus far.”

“You weren’t impressed by Mount Fuji or the sushi my chefs prepared for you?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at the suspicious young woman. 

“Those things were impressive…” she started as she took the seat he offered her--nothing more than a cushion on the tatami floor. “But I’ve been left alone for a large part of my trip here. That’s not what I wanted.” 

Straight to business. Kiku could be direct when pressed, and at the moment he had reached his limit. “And what did you want?” he asked, fixing her with a steely gaze, as if to warn her that he would know if she lied. “What is your aim in coming here?” 

Amelia was taken aback by that. “Sorry, but I thought Commodore Perry and President Fillmore--”   
  
“I am not speaking of the treaty. You could have remained home and left all of that to them. I want to know why you--Miss America--have come,” he explained as he sat seiza style, hands folded neatly in his lap. He was the picture of calm, but Amelia could tell she had poked the bear hiding beneath the mask. “I know they did not want you to. Your presence is nothing more than an added logistical headache and they’ve been treating you just the same. You are not here to discuss matters of national importance with me, so _why are you here_?” 

The amount of disrespect her own people had shown her was obvious, even disheartening to see. If they didn’t respect her, then how was he supposed to? 

Amelia frowned. Everything he said might have been true, but it was incredibly rude. More than that, he sounded upset with her. “Why are _you_ so angry?” 

Kiku nearly broke his stance. Shouldn’t it be obvious? Why _shouldn’t_ he be angry? The shock must have been written all over his face because Amelia continued. 

“I don’t know what I did to make you hate me so much...You’ve never even met me before. I heard that you were closed off from most of the world and that you were unlike any other country I ever met. I thought you sounded a lot like me,” she tried to explain. “So I figured if I could meet you in person, maybe--just maybe--we could be friends…” 

He still didn’t understand. “You came all this way...to be friends with me?” 

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, not just you. Whales too.” That part lost him. “But now you’re angry with me for some reason!” 

Kiku wasn’t sure how a person could be so smart and so blind at the same time. Clearly, Miss America knew what her position was to her people. She didn’t argue how he characterized their treatment of her. She had somehow managed to convince them to let her come for purely personal, selfish reasons--and what childish reasons they were.

He knew war. He knew the pain of defeat and the relief of victory, two sides of the same coin. He knew the other nations looked at him as something to be owned, a pretty little toy they could shake gold pieces out of. 

Perhaps he had something in common with this girl after all, the one who so foolishly sailed around the world just to meet him for the sake of meeting him and nothing else--because it was convenient to tag along on an otherwise purely political visit. Kiku wore his mask well, but all knew it was there. He couldn’t say if Amelia had a mask at all. She simply seemed to exist, freely putting out all her emotions on display, unafraid to reflect back a humanity most other nations dare not admit to. 

She was a young nation, and by that virtue, more human than the rest of them. She had come seeking companionship, not his downfall. Her playtime with the children on the beach was exactly that--pure joy and elation at being able to experience existence, not an act of sedition to turn his people against him and destroy him from the inside out. She did not come here to watch him be picked apart, even if that might still be what her government was planning. She wouldn’t even be privy to that. 

“Perhaps I have misjudged you, Miss America,” he admitted with a soft smile, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “I promised you hospitality, but I’ve been so busy with the negotiations that I haven’t had the time to show you my homeland. Please inform your guardian that I will be absent from negotiations tomorrow in order to act as your personal guide.”

The way her face lit up made it impossible to hate her.

* * *

**_Hush, when no one is around, my dear_ **

**_You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes_ **

**_Spinning in my highest heels, love_ **

**_Shining just for you_ **

* * *

The negotiations continued without her presence, much to the delight of the younger folk Amelia had come to know during her stay. Even the young men and women now tolerated her, perhaps a sign that Japan himself was more accepting of her visit. 

But there was no clearer mark than the gift he sent her, along with two servants and instructions to join him in his compound. 

Perry was displeased, but America had behaved herself more than he expected. He had been allowed to do as he liked, calling all the shots so far. He had been warned not to get too involved in the personal affairs of the immortal representatives. Even so, her interim-boss had to voice his opposition. “Is it wise to be left alone with a man you have no relation to?” 

“Japan is different,” Amelia explained from behind a wooden screen as a maidservant Kiku sent along continued to fuss with one of those funny belts. It was far more comfortable than a corset at least. “You don’t have to worry about him.” 

“Different is part of the problem, Miss America,” he reminded her. “They don’t even particularly care for monogamy in these parts. Prostitutes and concubines are common here!” 

“As they are in all places of the world,” she noted, not quite as naive as everyone seemed to believe. 

“Yes, but they’re not so flagrantly  _ public!” _ he hissed back. 

Amelia’s laugh was cut off by the maid tugging her hair in ways it had never been before. She winced and then continued, “And if it is so common and so public, then why go through the trouble and risk the diplomatic incident to steal my virtue? I have no doubt you would defend me. The entire country would burn for such an offense.” 

Finally finished, Japan’s maids stepped back and Amelia was allowed to appear from behind the screen.    
  
“If we just spend a little more time together, I know that Japan and I can become fast friends!” And maybe, just maybe, Amelia wouldn’t mind if he looked at her the way a man looked at a woman he desired. That would be a first for her. 

Draped in a pink kimono with a dragonfly and floral motif, she had to marvel at the craftsmanship. Even the pin in her hair, a kanzashi made of flowers and pearls, was exquisitely made and had to cost a small fortune. 

“I sort of feel like a princess~!” she admitted, performing a spin in her newly-gifted geta, the long sleeves of her furisode swinging on full display. “I love it!”

He did not share her elation. Draped in another country’s traditional garments, he had to wonder if the clothes were a gift for America or for Japan himself.

* * *

**_I'm still on that tightrope_ **

**_I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me_ **

* * *

Seeing her in his style of clothes put Kiku more at ease. It was a little odd to see a foreigner dressed up like that, but he preferred it to the ocean of fabric she usually seemed to be swimming in. It wasn’t so jarring for him. It almost felt like he had taken a little bit of his own power back, if only softly. 

“Do you like it?” he asked her as his servants left them alone with only his dog, Pochi, for company. 

“It’s gorgeous!” Amelia enthused, giving him a little twirl that only highlighted how childish she was in his eyes. Even so, it brought a small smile to his lips. She might not be what one would call ‘proper’, but she was certainly amusing. “Oh! But wait! I brought you a gift too!” 

She reached for the satchel she had brought along with her and pulled out an odd little table, round in shape and dark brown in color. “Have a look at this, Japan! It’s a futuristic fortune-telling game! It answers any question you wanna ask it!” 

He looked a little skeptical as she placed the disk in front of him. “Really? That sounds quite interesting. You’ll teach me this, right?” 

“Yes, of course!” she promised, reaching over to take his hands. “You put your hands on the table like this and then ask a question! Then your hands will mysteriously move once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’ all on their own.”   
  
“How nice. So ghosts are involved,” he remarked, humoring her just a little as he splayed his fingers out over the lacquered wood. “But it seems odd. Can you really tell someone’s fortune with it?” 

“Just watch! What do you want to know about?” 

He still wasn’t convinced as America placed her hands on the table too. “Then...please ask whether Shiro of the Toda family will be able to find a bride or not.” 

It was a silly question. The Shiro in question was only a dog. 

“Okay! Let’s try it then!” It wasn’t like he expected her to back down, but the intensity she seemed to channel as she leaned over the table even had him staring at their hands. “Will Shiro Toda be able to find a bride?!” 

Amelia moved her hands. She thought herself fairly clever pulling a little prank on him like this. He seemed to fall for it too, especially with the way his hands followed hers. 

“There! See?! Look at this!” 

“D-does this mean ‘yes’?!” He really didn’t think anything would happen. “Incredible...To think we can have our fortunes told this easily…”

Maybe she was some sort of fortune-teller with supernatural powers. Either way, one look at her grinning face encouraged Kiku to continue. 

“Now, what do you want to ask next?!” The blonde seemed even more lively than before. “You can ask anything! Like things that worry you or about a girl you like~!” 

“What? Things that worry me? L-let’s see…” He was an old man. Kiku didn’t carry around little school-boy crushes. 

That didn’t stop Amelia’s heart from skipping a beat though as he mentioned her arrival. “Ever since you came, the environment and people surrounding me have changed quite a bit. Various things have happened one after another since opening up the country.” 

Her face fell. She always knew Japan had a serious side, but this was different. He was speaking directly from his heart. 

“I think it’s wonderful to get to know the people and culture of those countries that I only knew by name before. But I’m still worried about whether I can get along with those people.” Amelia’s eyes widened as Japan laid out an insecurity of his. It was the first time she could recall a nation aside from her brother having ever done that in front of her. Everything about this moment suddenly felt fragile, like it might break and shatter into a million pieces if she wasn’t careful with it. “So could you have it tell me if I can get along with others from now on?” 

He looked so troubled. Clearly this had been weighing heavily on him, his concern about making friends a reflection of her own worries. 

“So that’s what was on your mind…” She quickly shook off her shock, putting on another smile for him and placing her hands back on the table. “Okay! Let’s try it!”

“Yes.” He joined her, staring down at the backs of their hands intently.   
  
Another slight of hand and...

She cheered. “Hey, look! Once! All right! Do you get it? That’s the answer! It’s a ‘yes’!”

Her hands folded over his own, grasping them in a warm embrace. “Let’s get along better than anyone else going forward, okay?!” 

If she hadn’t been grinning and giggling with such childish delight, Kiku might have felt his heart skip a beat. He might not have simply nodded his head and agreed. 

“I can only hope that we’ll always be the best of friends.”

* * *

**_And I'm still a believer, but I don't know why_ **

**_I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try_ **

* * *

Amelia opened her eyes and found that peaceful little smile of Kiku’s she adored so much on his face. It was enough to make her take the hand he had in her hair and bring it to her lips, kissing the knuckles, palm, and wrist before finally giving it back. 

“You still give my heart dokis,” she murmured, but no matter how quietly she said it, it wasn’t enough for Kiku not to bully her. 

He poked the spot on her face directly between her eyebrows, making her flinch. “You know I hate it when you speak broken Japanese...Speak it properly or speak English. Just say I make your heart beat faster!” 

“But if I did that, you wouldn’t make that cute, pouty face you ma--! That one! That one! Right there!” she insisted, sitting up. 

Kiku tried to compose his face into a neutral expression, but that only made her whine. “No, Kiku! You make such cute faces when you show all your emotions on them!” 

“You show enough emotion for the both of us,” he teased, pulling her to sit in his lap properly, arms wrapped around her waist. She was still noticeably pants-less, but he couldn’t complain too much, a hand trailing over the inside of her bare thigh. “And skin. Why don’t you put on a yukata? We can go to the onsen later.” 

“Have you considered, perhaps, that you  _ should  _ be showing more skin? It wouldn’t hurt for you to show a little leg every now and again,” she cooed, turning to straddle his lap. “Or do you just want me back in your clothes, Kiku? Would you like me to wear that furisode again? I bet that got your heart going, didn’t it…?” 

She was testing his willpower, but Kiku was a proud man and far too experienced to be seduced so easily. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Ami, but I did not see you as a woman at the time. Just a little girl that was on display like a pretty ornament for all to see.” 

“So...No dokis?” 

“No dokis,” he confirmed, nodding his head and breaking his own rule from moments ago.

“And now...?” Amelia purred, pressing her body up against his, rolling her hips into the thin layer of his robe. 

“...Perhaps I could be persuaded.” 

She giggled and trailed kisses from his neck to his jaw while his hands began to wander, expert fingers sliding beneath her shirt and unhooking her bra as their lips met. 

The cicadas weren’t the only thing buzzing as she began to undress him, but they ignored it.

Amelia pushed the yukata from Kiku’s shoulders while sighing gently into his kiss, as though this were the comfort she needed after a long and stressful day dealing with leaders who didn’t respect her. As soon as his chest was exposed, he laid her down and slipped an index finger into the hip of her panties, tugging them off. 

The buzzing came again as her legs hooked around his waist. “Ami…” he warned her, starting to sit back. “Ami, that’s your boss…”

“You want to ignore it just as much as I do,” she whispered to him in a seductive tone the girl from a century and a half ago never could have mustered. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and brought him back. She cupped his cheek and smiled like the little nymph she was, like she had a secret she would only share with him. 

In western clothes, Amelia allowed Kiku to perform acts her boss always feared he would. 

* * *

**_I'm still on that trapeze_ **

**_I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me_ **

**_Because I'm a mirrorball_ **

**_I'm a mirrorball_ **

_**And I'll show you every version of yourself tonight** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a harder chapter to write. I was looking forward to it, but everything has kinda gone to hell...I'm just glad I managed to get it out at all, honestly. As always, don't anticipate another chapter from me for about 4-6 weeks! The next one will be heavy on the RusAme though. Our little girl is finally growing up (and getting laid).


End file.
